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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537607">this is the world as i see it now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn'>Hymn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hymn's Fic: Katekyo Hitman Reborn Collection [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Katekyou Hitman Reborn!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(and only goes into vague detail once), (kinda), (those are only in the first chapter), Angst, Blow Job, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, D/s themes, Demisexual Gokudera, Drunk Sex, Feelings Realization, Future Fic, Good Lord, Hand Job, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Life-Affirming Sex, M/M, MOSTLY IT'S JUST A LOT OF GOKUDERA HAVING FEELINGS, Masturbation, Near Future, One Night Stands, Overstimulation, Pining, Praise, Protective Gokudera Hayato, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual exploration, Sexuality Crisis, Submissive Gokudera, Subspace, Tsuna/Gokudera endgame, Undernegotiated Kink, Vaginal Sex, gokudera pov, i read back through the ending again and realized i needed to adjust the tags, if i missed anything (which i well may have!) pls let me know, post-manga, though he doesn't realize it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:36:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>It turned out that Hayato couldn’t tell the Tenth about <i>any</i> of them—not Haru or Eri, and not Akane or Mei or Hinata, either—despite that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, despite the fact that most teenagers his age boasted about sex, about how many times they had it or where or with whom and, and—</p>
  <p>He felt sick at the idea of Tsuna looking at him, saying, <i>Wow, you’ve had sex with all those girls?</i> or even just, <i>Oh, so you’ve had sex before? What was she like?</i> and Hayato—fuck, he didn’t really know why it freaked him out, or how to make the feeling go away, this sense of guilt and unease that drifted in only when he thought about coming clean, about looking into Tsuna’s eyes and listing off all this proof of how <i>much</i> Hayato liked girls. </p>
  <p>There was a desperate ache in his chest for Tsuna not to know, to never know.</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gokudera Hayato/Sawada Tsunayoshi, minor Gokudera Hayato/OFCs, v minor Gokudera Hayato/Miura Haru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hymn's Fic: Katekyo Hitman Reborn Collection [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1356361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>100% self indulgent, which means i did zero research, had no plans, and just let myself write whatever the fuck i felt like. all plot is superficial, nothing makes any realistic sense, and i go overboard on the pining (as usual) title from Keaton Henson's song 10am Gare du Nord</p><p>have fun??</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
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Gokudera Hayato was no longer a virgin.</p><p>He took care of that at seventeen, when he’d gone and gotten drunk with Haru after the Tenth nearly died for the second time that week. It was <i>Wednesday</i>. Who knew what the tally would be by week’s end, and so, with the scent of burning and blood still clinging to his hair, Hayato decided to take solace in the most irresponsible way he could think of. Haru had trailed after him for some reason, and Hayato was too beside himself with terrified misery and itching, restless adrenaline to care.</p><p>“He just—he can’t keep <i>doing</i> this,” Hayato muttered into a can of beer, stolen from Bianchi and Reborn’s stash. “He keeps acting like it’s okay if he doesn’t fight back and it’s <i>not</i>, he has to realize that there’s no turning back anymore, that he can’t just—just pretend to be something he’s <i>not</i>. He’s the boss. He’s <i>my</i> boss. He can’t—”</p><p>He can’t <i>die</i>, was what Hayato meant. He can’t <i>leave me</i>. </p><p>The two of them were sitting at the table in Bianchi’s kitchen, their line of empty beer cans creating a meandering, ill-formed corner of drunken, belligerent solidarity. It was early evening and no one else was home, and Hayato wished he could remember the pure, unadulterated awe he’d felt when he was fourteen, back before he’d realized any of Tsuna’s flaws—namely, his refusal to hit first, or second, or even <i>third</i> if he could help it.</p><p>They were the mafia. Hayato’s heart shouldn’t hiccup with fear at the sight of a little blood. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>Hayato reached for another beer. “Haru thinks,” said Haru, reverting to old speech patterns now that she was pleasantly buzzed, “that Tsuna-kun is really, really <i>dumb</i>.”</p><p>“He <i>is</i>,” Hayato wailed, pointing with his whole hand as well as the newly acquired beer it was clutching. “How am I supposed to keep him safe if he—if he won’t even <i>try</i> and—” Needless to say, the actual de-virginizing that followed had been messy, awkward, and not at all what either of them had wanted in the moment, let alone <i>after</i>, when they’d woken up a few hours later, stinking of stale beer, indecently clothed, and with Bianchi glaring at them through a pair of fashionable goggles.</p><p>“I’m embarrassed by you,” she told Hayato. “You should know better than to play with a woman’s heart when you can never give her what she wants.”</p><p>“Hey! It’s not <i>my</i> fault—”</p><p>“Haaa,” sighed Haru, rubbing at her aching head and flushed bright red. “Please stop, Bianchi-nee-san. I appreciate it, but—It’s not—I mean, I was an idiot, too. And it’s not like I don’t know he’s in love with Tsuna-kun, all right? I wasn’t <i>expecting</i> anything out of it, I—”</p><p>“Wait,” said Hayato, mouth gaping open in shocked horror. “W-what? I’m not—!”</p><p>Bianchi kicked him before he could say anything else.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><i>Ha</i>.<p>Gokudera Hayato, Vongola’s revered Storm Guardian, in love with the boss? How ridiculous. How utterly, absolutely, mind-numbingly absurd. It hardly bore thinking about, to be honest. Because obviously it wasn’t true. Couldn’t be. Hayato was into girls, boobs and sweet smells and long hair and—and pouting lips, stuff like that. Just because he’d never had a girlfriend didn’t mean anything. It was only that Hayato hadn’t had much time to be <i>into</i> girls, what with being the Tenth’s right hand man. That’s why Haru and Bianchi were confused. That was all. </p><p>In love with the Tenth—<i>ha</i>.</p><p>On his way to school the next morning, Hayato thought about how to tell Tsuna about what happened, how best to inform his boss that he was no longer a <i>virgin</i>. Regardless of the weird, bad-wrong, sort of guilty feeling of how it happened, that was something Hayato should boast about, right? </p><p>Because Hayato was straight. Totally into girls. And sharing stuff like this with your friends was totally, completely normal. Expected, even!</p><p>Right.</p><p>Tsuna was going to be so <i>impressed</i> with him.</p><p>That thought, at least, made Hayato cheerful. He made it to school with plenty of time to spare, nearly humming with good feeling. And there was Tsuna already at his desk, slumped over with his head buried in his folded arms, the soft hoodie hiding his face from view. All Hayato had to do was go over, nudge him awake, and say <i>You’ll never guess what happened, Tenth</i>, and then he’d tell him, his boss and best friend, who Hayato was <i>definitely</i> not in love with because Hayato had totally had sex with a girl because…</p><p>Because Hayato <i>liked</i> girls. </p><p>Fuck Bianchi and Haru for making this weird in the first place. Hayato was straight, this was <i>normal</i>, and he was about to prove it by telling Tsuna all about what happened.</p><p>Crossing the classroom took barely any time at all. Hayato put his bag away. He sat down in his chair just behind Tsuna, which he’d bullied another kid into trading him for after the new seat assignments—and then glowered at the homeroom teacher fiercely to force them into accepting. After all, this was Hayato’s rightful place: watching Tsuna’s back, keeping him safe. </p><p>
  <i>You’ll never guess what happened, Tenth.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hey Tenth! Guess what, I’m not...</i>
</p><p>Hayato wasn’t quite sure, suddenly, how he was going to say it. But he would. He would tell his boss, and then laugh about how stupid Haru was for thinking that he was in love with a guy, and—and <i>then</i> everything would feel normal again. Completely normal, totally normal, <i>absolutely</i> normal because everything was normal and Hayato was <i>not in love with the Tenth</i>.</p><p>All he had to do was prove it.</p><p>So he reached a hand out and hovered it over Tsuna’s bowed back, ready to tap him awake, but... </p><p>Hayato fell into watching the gentle rise and fall of Tsuna’s hunched shoulders instead. Watched as his lungs expanded—as he <i>breathed</i>, thank fuck. Somehow still alive despite all his terrible choices and attempts to run away from threats determined to end him. </p><p>Hayato’s hand trembled in the air, unable to complete the gesture.</p><p>All around them students filed in, chatting and trading homework and talking about what shows they’d watched the day before. Tsuna shifted at the noise, making a small, wounded sound, a disgruntled, sleepy little protest. One of his hands came up to bury itself in his tousled, spiky hair, showing off white bandages wrapped around his knuckles, a plaster on the back of his hand.</p><p>Hayato pulled his own hand back, slumped back into his chair, and let his boss sleep.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Somehow, he always forgot to bring it up after that. Which was fine, because the longer Hayato thought about it the more he was certain that Tsuna wouldn’t be impressed. <i>Drunk?</i> he might say, brow furrowed. <i>But is—is Haru okay? Did you—?</i> and no, Hayato hadn’t taken advantage of Haru that night. Or, at least not any more than she had taken advantage of <i>him</i>, the both of them equally drunk and stupid. But it still wasn’t really the kind of thing to be bragging about, Hayato decided.<p>After all—<i>Why?</i> Tsuna might ask. <i>Why were you guys drinking that much in the first place?</i></p><p>And then what could Hayato say? <i>Because the thought of losing you makes my mind buzz and my chest go all tight and crumpled up and I feel lost and frightened and I don’t know how to fight it, how to make it go away, so I thought maybe I could at least numb it, drown it, bury it in a haze of alcohol and—</i></p><p>Yeah, sharing the truth was probably not a great fucking idea.</p><p>So he kept silent. Hayato didn’t breathe a word about how he’d lost his virginity at seventeen, or how he’d been accused of being <i>in love</i>, let alone with whom. He hadn’t proven anything at all about being straight or normal like he’d intended, but it shouldn’t have mattered. <i>Hayato</i> knew. That should have been enough to allow him to set the whole ridiculous ordeal aside.</p><p>And it was, mostly. </p><p>Except for how Hayato was suddenly aware of…everything. How he acted, how he felt, how he <i>re</i>acted. </p><p>At first, he worried that Haru and Bianchi had <i>done</i> something, but to be fair, these reactions weren’t anything particularly different from the way that Hayato had always reacted around the Tenth: the same sort of flustered, half-wild responses; the heavy longing and the buoyant joy; the deep satisfaction in knowing he belonged at Tsuna’s side. </p><p>It wasn’t anything new, but Hayato’s perception of it was. As the days turned into weeks which turned to months, Hayato found he was blushing every time he thought of those words—<i>he’s in love with Tsuna-kun</i>. Even worse, he’d become attuned to the way his heart would make this stupid little butterfly wing flutter, or act like a stone skipping across a placid lake. </p><p>All <i>bump-bum-bu-bu-bu-bump!</i> any time Tsuna smiled at him or laughed with him or—</p><p>Hayato started to tell himself: “I’m not in love with him,” but somehow the denial always came out in a soft, wondering sort of murmur. And he only said it when he was alone in his room, both his hands held up like a prayer in front of his face, so that the words themselves were delivered as a secret to his cupped palms. </p><p>But that wasn’t—it wasn’t anything <i>weird</i>, really. It didn’t have to <i>mean</i> anything.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Every now and again Yamamoto would invite both Tsuna and Hayato to join him at mixers. “They don’t want <i>me</i> there,” Tsuna said wryly, every time, “I’ll just disappoint them.” Which was wrong on so many levels, but no matter what Yamamoto tried or how much Hayato yelled Tsuna wouldn’t give in, finally having learned how to dig his heels in and stand his ground at least amongst friends. So Hayato never went, either, because why bother if Tsuna wasn’t interested?<p>About four months after the mistake with Haru, though, Hayato gave in. </p><p>“Sure,” he said, tapping his rings against the side of his desk at lunch, where Yamamoto had come over from his own classroom to bother them. “What time?”</p><p>Tsuna looked surprised, but Tsuna was also covered in bandages again, pale and tired around his eyes. Hayato could barely stand to look at him, even though he couldn’t stand to look away, either, greedily drinking in the sight of him alive and breathing. That itchy terror was back, that restless adrenaline and hollow ache and that—that <i>anger</i>, the whining frustration that he wanted to spit at Tsuna but never would. Hayato had to deal with the overflow of emotions somehow, so he went with Yamamoto to the stupid fucking mixer.</p><p>It was in a private room, and one of the other kids managed to sneak in beer. Hayato got just tipsy enough that he let a girl named Eri take him back home while her parents were out of town—visiting an Auntie or something in the countryside—and her hands shook when she unclasped her bra and her words shook, too, when she asked him: “Have you done this before?”</p><p>Hayato wanted to be suave and cool, but he just said a little helplessly: “Once. I don’t really—uh.”</p><p>“We’ll figure it out,” Eri said, determined and brave even with her eyes wide with nerves, and then she kissed him and it...it was nice. It was warm and wet and interesting, her tongue in his mouth, his in hers. The whole experience so far was better than that time with Haru, especially since neither of them were so drunk they could barely think about what they were doing. </p><p>Hayato learned she liked it when he sucked on her lower lip, and that she liked his hand between her legs; learned that her breasts were small but soft against his chest. With her help, Hayato got her off once and then, before they could overthink it any further, she pulled a condom out from the bottom of her night stand and put it on him. </p><p>The sound of the crinkling foil was foreign, the touch of her hands—small, soft, hesitant—on his dick made him bite his lip, shuddering hard. This was so, so different from his first time. Hayato was painfully aware of the sound of their breathing, of each nervous touch, the look in her shining eyes. </p><p>“You sure?” he asked, and she was still shaking in his hands but said steadily enough, “Yes. <i>Yes</i>.”</p><p>Everything so far had felt better than he expected, and then the actual sensation of rocking carefully into her—it—well, it was <i>amazing</i>. One of the best things Hayato had ever done or experienced, and he felt bad all over again for the drunken, awful tumble he and Haru had committed, because Bianchi had been right after all: Haru deserved better than what Hayato had given her. </p><p>But then Eri wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped, and Hayato didn’t have time for lingering regrets, because he loved this—the overwhelming intimacy of the act. They’d been tipsy at the start, but he and Eri had been entirely sober by the time their clothes had finished coming off, and <i>that</i> was nice too—so nice, wonderful even, knowing that he wasn’t alone, getting to share shaky, uncertain smiles with another soul as they tried to fit their bodies together, reaching and holding and <i>here</i> for each other.</p><p>“I’m—I’m uh—” he stuttered out when he got close.</p><p>Eri wrapped her arms around his shoulders, anchoring him. He could feel her breath on his throat, and the thundering of his pulse didn’t scare him—he felt safe, secure, <i>connected</i>. “Okay,” she mumbled against his skin, and it was like she was saying <i>I’m here, it’s okay, I’ve got you</i> so Hayato’s hips stuttered and he let go and it was <i>brilliant</i>.</p><p>“Thanks,” she said later, toes curled in her carpet and seated on the edge of the bed. “You’re—you’re a lot kinder than I thought you’d be, actually.”</p><p>“Hey,” said Hayato, not sure how to take that.</p><p>She laughed, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just—you’re really loud and, and intense. The way you dress, you look tough—like you <i>want</i> to be tough, or for people to think that you are.” Hayato still wasn’t sure how to take this critique on his character, especially since he could still taste Eri’s lip gloss in his mouth. Was there a protocol? If so, Hayato didn’t know it.</p><p>But thankfully, Eri kept going and Hayato let her without protest, listening as she said: “And I mean, that sort of attitude doesn’t always translate into nice guys when you get them alone. But I’m glad. I’m really glad you are. I think—”</p><p>Carefully, Eri laid her hand on his clenched fist, his fingers knotted into the blanket on her bed between them. </p><p>“I got luckier than I realized,” she said. “I’m really glad you were nice.”</p><p>Hayato ducked his head, flushing. “Oh. Y-yeah. You, too.”</p><p>They exchanged emails but Hayato wasn’t surprised when a week went by and then another and she never contacted him. He never contacted her, either. The night they had spent together had been great, but it had only been about—about <i>sex</i>. About getting it over with, having it, trying it out. Nothing more complicated than that, and while they’d sat there on the edge of the bed a while afterward, content in each other’s company, when their bodies grew chilled they got dressed and Hayato left, a kiss on his cheek the only real goodbye between them.</p><p>Walking home that night beneath the stars Hayato had thought about telling the Tenth about <i>this</i>, this nice thing that had happened to him, the warmth in his chest and the languor in his body, but—</p><p>He hadn’t told him about Haru.</p><p>Oddly enough, he couldn’t tell him about Eri, either.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>It turned out that Hayato couldn’t tell the Tenth about <i>any</i> of them—not Haru or Eri, and not Akane or Mei or Hinata, either—despite that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, despite the fact that most teenagers his age boasted about sex, about how many times they had it or where or with whom and, and—<p>He felt sick at the idea of Tsuna looking at him, saying, <i>Wow, you’ve had sex with all those girls?</i> or even just, <i>Oh, so you’ve had sex before? What was she like?</i> and Hayato—fuck, he didn’t really know why it freaked him out, or how to make the feeling go away, this sense of guilt and unease that drifted in only when he thought about coming clean, about looking into Tsuna’s eyes and listing off all this proof of how <i>much</i> Hayato liked girls. </p><p>There was a desperate ache in his chest for Tsuna not to know, to never know. </p><p>Which meant, of course, that some idiot with a baseball for a brain let it slip one afternoon at the fucking <i>convenience</i> store. </p><p>“He keeps threatening to drop me in the middle of rural Italy,” Tsuna muttered darkly, staring at where his phone rested over his noodles, waiting for them to be ready. Steam leaked out the edges of the paper top, getting condensation on the screen. “Says the best way to perfect my Italian is by <i>total immersion</i>, which just—no. He only feels like being mean. It’s been a while since Reborn made me miserable and called it training.”</p><p>“You know I could help with that, boss,” Hayato pointed out.</p><p>It’d been nearly a month since their last brush with death, and while Hayato was <i>bored</i>, he was also grateful that he had this: just him and Tsuna getting lunch together over summer break, nothing to trouble them at all.</p><p>“Eh,” said Tsuna.</p><p>“I’ve <i>totally</i> gotten better at tutoring,” Hayato protested, because he had.</p><p>His own phone was set between them. Yamamoto’s voice crackled through the speaker, saying: “Nah. You’re way too weirdly formal with Tsuna, especially in Italian! It’d never work.”</p><p>“Levati dai coglioni,” Hayato told him.</p><p>Yamamoto just laughed. “You should definitely let Reborn drop you off in Italy, Tsuna. Italian women are gorgeous, aren’t they? And I bet they have topless beaches pretty much everywhere.”</p><p>Hayato should probably argue that, but he was…distracted.</p><p>Immediately and horribly distracted with worry that Tsuna would agree, change his mind, and let Reborn drop him off in Italy so he could flirt.</p><p>Tsuna rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were flushing bright red, and not from the Cup Noodle steam. “I don’t need to go to Italy to get a girlfriend,” he muttered, which at least did a bit to relieve the sudden strange tightness in Hayato’s chest at the idea of Tsuna surrounded by supermodels on the beach, being touched and kissed and—</p><p>Hayato was startled to find he’d nearly crushed his half-eaten onigiri in his hand, the plastic still covering the bottom half all wrinkled and the rice smushed. <i>Be cool</i>, he thought to himself, bewildered by his own response but certain of his resulting course of action, at least: <i>Don't freak out, don't be weird—don’t make the Tenth uncomfortable!</i></p><p>He tried shaking the worry off, but it just mutated. Instead, Hayato wondered if Tsuna was still thinking of Kyoko, though he hadn’t heard the Tenth mention Sasagawa’s sister aloud in months. But maybe he still had a crush on her, maybe he was still quietly pining and anguished with longing, and that’s why he didn’t need to go to Italy. Or maybe he had his sights set on some other girl, now, or maybe—maybe he was just making a point. That he could get any girl he wanted, and he <i>could</i>, even though Tsuna probably believed that least of anybody.</p><p>But Hayato knew how wonderful the Tenth was. He knew how lucky any girl would be to touch him, to date him, to love him—</p><p>His onigiri started to squish up from the packaging, like a push pop.</p><p>Hayato really needed to change the subject, and fast.</p><p>Unfortunately, despite Tsuna’s low-voiced, awkward protest, Yamamoto somehow heard him even on the phone, with the noise of his training camp all around him and the bustle of the convenience store around them, and wasn’t about to let it go. “Who said anything about a girlfriend?” he teased, laughing brightly. “I just meant some casual fun. Now <i>that’s</i> something you could teach him, Gokudera. How many girls have you taken home now? Five? Twenty? It’s ridiculous how easy he pulls, Tsuna, you’ve really got to come to a mixer with us for once when I get back, see him in action.”</p><p>The window in front of them was half covered in advertisements, but Hayato had a sliver to stare through, seeing the street bustling beyond. For a moment, all he could do was exist, sitting still as a stone, a statue in a fountain, staring out at strangers and wondering how in the world he was meant to handle this.</p><p>“Wait,” said Tsuna. “What?”</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Yamamoto crowed. “Regular player, our Gokudera-kun!”</p><p><i>Fuck</i>.</p><p>It felt like the moment when he realized he’d cut the fuse on a stick of dynamite too short and hadn’t caught it before slotting it into his belt—like a split-second <i>oh fuck</i> of horror and swooping nerve-packed adrenaline before he had to chuck it as hard as he could after lighting it, desperately trying not to lose any fingers. The kind of thing that left him shaky and nauseas and wondering how in the fuck he could be <i>that stupid</i> to make such a mistake. </p><p>This… This was <i>not</i> what Hayato had wanted. This wasn’t fair, not at all, not when he’d gone so long without Tsuna ever knowing. He didn’t want to look his boss in the face and have this conversation, but the world beyond the convenience store window was an indistinct blur, and nothing bad that had happened to Hayato had ever stopped simply because he <i>wished</i> it would, so Hayato turned his head to look at his boss.</p><p>Tsuna was looking back at him, startled.</p><p>“Wha—no,” Hayato said, tongue gone clumsy in his mouth. The rice in his hand was definitely becoming mush; he could feel it sliding in his squeezing grip, like he was struggling for something—<i>anything</i>—to hold on to. “That’s not—I don’t uh—”</p><p>“Whoa,” said Tsuna. “Really?”</p><p>“...Uh.”</p><p>There was an ugly pause, none of them speaking. </p><p>Then, Yamamoto blurted, “Aw, crap. Break’s over. I gotta go, talk to you guys later!” and ended the call, and Hayato wanted to punch him, wanted to beat him bloody in a way he hadn’t in <i>years</i>, wanted to fucking destroy him because this was—this was worse than anything Hayato could have imagined, because Yamamoto didn’t need to go, he just read the tension on the other end of the line and was running like a god damned <i>coward</i>, ending the call and then it was just Hayato and Tsuna left in the mess he’d made, knees touching beneath the counter, and—</p><p>Tsuna’s phone alarm dinged.</p><p>Tsuna dismissed it, then moved his phone back into his pocket, peeled off the top of the Cup Noodle, and dug in with his chopsticks. Hayato was still staring at him, head on, but Tsuna wasn’t looking back anymore. “Cool,” he told Hayato. “I didn’t know about that. You never told me?”</p><p>“It didn’t—it didn’t seem important,” was all Hayato could shove out, terrified.</p><p>Tsuna just nodded his head like he agreed, like he really didn’t care. Because he—he didn’t, did he? Why would Tsuna care about where Hayato’s dick had been? That was too presumptuous. Of course Tsuna didn’t care. Hayato should have known that it wouldn’t matter, but—but it wasn’t like Hayato hadn’t thought up this possibility already, so he didn’t know why it felt like his chest was in the grasp of some big, merciless hand, squeezing until it crumpled. </p><p>Tsuna said, “Sure,” around his chopsticks as he filled his mouth with noodles. And then, garbled out gracelessly: “Ow, awfuck, that was <i>hot</i>, shit, ow ow!”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Tsuna never brought it up again, never commented on Hayato’s sleeping around—and somehow, dizzyingly, <i>that</i> was worse than him begging for details. Worse than being appalled at Hayato’s loose ways. That his boss didn’t seem to care at all, had such little interest in Hayato’s sex life, it—<p>
  <i>Why the fuck is this bothering me so much?</i>
</p><p>He was curled up in his desk chair, bare feet slipping on the edge of his seat, and tinkering with the Boxes that made up Sistema C.A.I.. It was a good time to think, the best kind: when Hayato worked on his gear he felt steeped in calm, mind crystal clear and steady, patient and soft like he never did when the worries of the world—of the Tenth, Hayato’s own self-worth, the other Guardians—clamored and trumpeted for his attention. </p><p>The only other times he’d felt at ease like this had been as a small boy, in a brief slice of the past before everything at his father’s house went sour and putrid. When he could sit at the piano and <i>feel</i> the music, pure and transcendent, and he’d play for no other reason save the satisfaction of creating a melody that pleased him. </p><p>Now, he sometimes fell into his work like it might save him.</p><p>Summer vacation had been going so well up until that moment that Yamamoto had to open his damned, stupid mouth. The very next day there’d been an assassination attempt, and then two days after that Squalo had come for Yamamoto and, finding the Rain Guardian no where in the vicinity, had made do with Tsuna and the rest of them. Four days after <i>that</i> had been another attack, a disgruntled CEDEF ex-employee that had decided to get to Iemitsu by getting at his son, which had blossomed into a full week of cat-and-mouse with added explosions. After that had been…</p><p>Actually, Hayato couldn’t quite remember. It had been a <i>lot</i>, was the thing, everything blurring into one another, and in a way it was a blessing. He couldn’t panic and fidget and be weird around Tsuna when he was too busy fighting for him, protecting him. Everything else, as always, ceased to matter in comparison. </p><p>Hayato was only flesh and bone, though, meat and blood. He’d keep on going until he wore himself to dust, but the thing was that he actually felt like he was <i>getting</i> there, like he was worn thin, his pale complexion a prelude to a ghostly existence. It had to stop, somehow. Surely, they had to get a break, because Tsuna couldn’t keep doing this, and Hayato—</p><p>He didn’t know how to keep watching his boss get hurt.</p><p>The last attack had been three days ago when he and Tsuna had been hanging out at an arcade. Yet another moment where, trying to live their everyday lives, Tsuna had been forced into a situation that left his clothing shredded and blood in his hair, on his face, dripping down his knuckles. It was the life of a mafia boss, but for some reason, Hayato’s first thought was: it isn’t <i>fair</i>. </p><p>“Get everyone out, Gokudera,” had been Tsuna’s grim order when the ceiling had first begun to buckle and cave above them. With a burst of Will he’d been garbed in gloves, flames, and determination, muscles straining as he fought to keep the ceiling up as everyone else in the arcade evacuated. By the time Hayato finished carrying out that order and rushed back in, pieces of it had fallen to the floor, smashing anything beneath it. </p><p>Hayato stared.</p><p>“A pity about the games. I liked this place,” Tsuna said, smirk small and sure and ruefully amused, flame burning brilliant. “Everyone safe?”</p><p>“Jesus, Tenth. You—you look like a superhero.”</p><p>And he had, but Tsuna <i>wasn’t</i> invulnerable. Hayato had felt that knowledge shaking in his bones, because even as cool as his boss looked with his one arm upraised and sweat streaking through the blood, his other pointed down, soft flame keeping him in place, the reality was this: Tsuna hurt, Tsuna bleeding, Tsuna in danger. Hayato could <i>see</i> it, could see what it cost him, the way it left him with weak spots, openings he deliberately allowed in order to protect others. Hayato was a complexity of emotion, a roaring inferno of wants and needs and fears, staring at the long stretch of Tsuna’s side, vulnerable and unprotected. Fuck, <i>fuck</i>, his boss was incredible and precious and it scared Hayato so much sometimes, <i>so much</i>, it—</p><p>“Tenth,” he’d croaked. “Y-yeah. They’re all safe. What can I do? How can I help?”</p><p>“Don’t move,” Tsuna grit out, all at once looking exactly as exhausted as he must be feeling after these weeks and weeks of hardship. Hayato took an aborted step forward, fliching towards him, wishing to ease that pain.</p><p>“Boss...”</p><p>“Don’t,” Tsuna said. “Do as I say, Gokudera.”</p><p>Grimacing, Hayato did.</p><p>And then Tsuna smiled at him, a little grateful twist of his mouth that said <i>Good, that’s good</i>, and Hayato wanted to tell Tsuna that he could give him a hundred thousand orders and that Hayato would obey each and every one if it would just make Tsuna <i>happy</i>. But then Tsuna shifted, the ceiling groaning, and with a careful redirection of flame he shot forward fast enough to generate a little sonic <i>boom</i>. Hayato lost his breath and his mind when he felt Tsuna wrap an arm tight around his waist and pull him in against his body, soaring out the wrecked front window, to safety, as the ceiling came tumbling down behind them.</p><p>“Th-thanks,” Hayato had gasped, and if he’d clung to Tsuna’s forearms, weak kneed when his boss had set him gently on the ground, that was just adrenaline and relief and—and—<i>nothing</i>, it was nothing, except that now, here Hayato was three days after the business with the arcade had concluded, five weeks after the incident where Yamamoto had spilled his secrets, where Tsuna hadn’t <i>cared</i>, and—</p><p>It was all he could think about.</p><p><i>Why</i> was it all he could think about?</p><p>Hayato didn’t know, but he couldn’t find that clarity of mind, that safe space he created when he worked, and the Boxes tumbled from his trembling fingers to his desk. It was too much, everything felt like <i>too much</i>, and he couldn’t fucking <i>breathe</i> for the memory of terror that rattled around his chest, all jumbled up and caving in, like his ribs were little more than brittle branches cracking beneath unexpected pressure. He couldn’t bear it, not for one second longer, so he got up and threw on a jacket and grabbed a fresh pack of smokes and went out, feeling blind, feeling reckless. He went to a bar he was too young to be at, drank beer he should have been carded for, and found Hana: she was drunk and lovesick and didn’t ask him any questions, got them a room at a love hotel and let him hold her tight for long minutes after they were done, their strained breathing the only sound, an intimacy created and shared.</p><p>And for a moment, Hayato didn’t feel like he was drowning. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><p>Apparently it was a bit of a pattern, the fucking random girls after the Tenth scared Hayato near to death. Some late night memory-diving and frustrated date checking led to that reveal a day after the idea took hold—walking out of the love hotel to the dark street, telling himself that Tsuna was fine, that it was only a few scrapes and bruises and Hayato could breathe without fear, he honestly could, because his boss would be okay, he’d survived everything, he was <i>still breathing</i>, and with the memory of sweat-slicked skin warm against his own while he and Hana chased after that shining, perfect moment where Hayato felt so <i>good</i>, connected and alive, finally—<i>finally</i>—Hayato could believe it.</p><p>He could <i>believe</i> it.</p><p>Oh, fuck.</p><p>Hayato stood on a street corner, waiting for the light to change. He lit a cigarette, sucking hard to get it going, and then he concentrated on the rough drag. Because there hadn’t been a mixer involved this time, so it was a little easier to note the connection, the timing. No easy brush off of coincidence, Yamamoto’s laughter disrupting the violence of Hayato’s tension. <i>Oh</i>. Maybe that had been deliberate, then, Yamamoto’s invitations a little too perfectly timed, looking back. The Rain Guardian must have been taking notice of the way Hayato was barely fitting inside his skin, vibrating outward with a surplus of emotion, and doing that thing Yamamoto always did: casually fixing whatever there was to fix, however he could. </p><p>He must have <i>known</i>, and that—that was kind of embarrassing, wasn’t it?</p><p>It was like hearing Haru say <i>it’s not like I don’t know he’s in love with Tsuna-kun</i> all over again.</p><p>Because <i>this</i> was a little bit weird, probably. That his regard for Tsuna, his affection and respect and all the rest, that buoyant joy and heavy longing, could lead to <i>this</i>: to fucking, to intimacy, to needing someone to bury himself in just so that he could feel the ground steady beneath his feet. Even Hayato could admit to the weirdness. But a quick internet search revealed that life-affirming sex was apparently a thing, even if it was usually about affirming your own life, or—or your partner’s, the one you actually fucked, but—</p><p><i>Close enough</i>, Hayato decided.</p><p>Because weird or not, he still wasn’t in love with the Tenth. Haru had been wrong about that specific reasoning and so had Bianchi with her condemning, agreeing silence on the matter. Hayato loved Tsuna, of course he did, but it wasn’t—he wasn’t <i>in</i> love. He couldn’t be, because Gokudera Hayato fucked a lot of women and—and just—how fucking awful, how fucking <i>tragic</i> if it were true—but it wasn’t, it <i>wasn’t</i>—he couldn’t be—</p><p>He <i>couldn’t</i> be. </p><p>Simple as that.</p><p>But then, when Gokudera Hayato was eighteen, nearly a whole year after that drunken error with Haru and that horrid accusation, his boss saved his life—<i>again</i>—with a hard flame blazing out behind him and a sharp, aggressively protective glint in half-lidded, orange-tinged eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice quiet, calm despite the carnage going on behind him. </p><p>There was barely any space between them. Hayato swayed subtly forward from where he’d been pressed against a wall, like the Tenth was a star and Hayato a hapless chunk of rock getting pulled into orbit. His breathing came unsteady; he couldn’t look away. A prickling heat flushed through him, close to battle-adrenaline but <i>not</i>, a burbling current just beneath his skin that felt familiar, felt strange, was entirely unavoidable. </p><p>Tsuna’s hand, firm and flat against Hayato’s chest, so that Hayato could feel the tips of three fingers pressing against his clavicle, pushed him even tighter against the cold wall, pinning him in place.</p><p>Hayato made a strange noise, soft and barely there. </p><p>Tsuna stepped closer.</p><p>“Uh,” Hayato said back. His mind felt blank, empty, buzzing with it. He could feel the heat of Tsuna against him, was too aware of all the places they weren’t touching but might, if only Tsuna boxed him in a little tighter, came a little closer... </p><p>Tsuna licked his upper lip, a quick flash of tongue, and Hayato’s gaze finally flickered away from his boss’, too intense by half. That stare of Tsuna’s when in Hyper Mode always felt like hands on the <i>inside</i>, examining every inch of him, and it—it—fuck, but it <i>burned</i>.</p><p>Strange, that Hayato always liked the feeling of it so much. </p><p>If the two of them stayed just like this forever then Hayato would be happy. But there was a battle raging on, and Tsuna’s head cocked to the side, like he was listening to Gianni or Reborn on his headset, and time was ticking away, sand in an hourglass slipping, sliding, running out. It couldn’t last, and maybe that was for the best, because whatever this was that Hayato was feeling, it was also unbelievably terrifying. </p><p>So Hayato dragged in a shaky inhale and, somehow, managed to exhale: “Hey, Boss. Th-thanks.”</p><p>Smirking, the Tenth only murmured, “Any time, Gokudera,” before he was just—<i>gone</i>, too fast to track, an explosion in the distance the only indication of where he’d landed. </p><p>Hayato found himself staggering in place without his boss’ hand there to hold him up, gasping wildly, wishing desperately and with every atom of his being that Tsuna had fucking <i>kissed</i> him already. Had leaned in and held him against the cracked concrete, pinning him with hips and chest and strength and surety and just—</p><p>“Aw fuck,” Hayato groaned, as more of that strange yet familiar heat flushed through him.</p><p>Because yeah. Yeah, okay. Maybe he should stop denying it: Gokudera Hayato, eighteen years old, not-a-virgin, right hand of Vongola Decimo, was definitely, completely, and irrevocably in love with his boss.</p><p><i>Shit</i>.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Surprisingly, he didn’t feel particularly horrified or ashamed or confused or relieved—nothing like he might have expected at coming to the realization that Haru was right all along. No, he was just—resigned? And certain of it in a quiet, absolute way that was the complete and total opposite of shocked, and also he was kind of just…really sad, actually, and—and <i>lonely</i>. Fuck, but he was feeling so god damned lonely, and he hadn’t realized the emotion for what it was even when his subconscious had, going home with willing bodies and kind smiles whenever his heart hurt too badly at not being able to have what it needed, what it longed for, the assurance of Tsuna, <i>Tsuna</i>.<p>He sat slumped on the couch with his arms crossed over his head a couple days later, wearing sweats and no belts and none of his usual attitude, feeling wrung out and sorry for himself until Bianchi came over and exclaimed: “Okay, that’s enough, this is very unattractive. What’s wrong with you?”</p><p>“You were right,” he mumbled, because he needed to say it to someone, probably. “I’m totally in love with the Tenth.”</p><p>It didn’t feel better to have said it, but it wasn’t the worst thing, either. Mostly just a little pang, a little twist of guilt and sorrow as he said the words, and then it was over; except for the part where it wasn’t, because he didn’t stop feeling the sentiment once he stopped speaking. The love lingered, like it apparently always had.</p><p>He sighed, trying to disappear into the couch.</p><p>“...Wait. Did it actually take you <i>this long</i> to realize that? Some genius prodigy you are! How could you have missed <i>that</i>.”</p><p>“Not all of us are naturals on the battlefield of love,” Hayato grunted, morose and dramatic both.</p><p>It seemed to delight Bianchi, at least. She patted his stomach with more force than necessary and said brightly, “True enough! I have a special gift, I admit. But that doesn’t mean that you’re a lost cause. You’re <i>my</i> brother, Hayato. Are you so weak you’re going to give up before you’ve even begun?”</p><p><i>Yes</i>.</p><p>“N-no,” he sputtered, shifting his arms so he could blink up at her blearily. From behind her goggles her eyes were sharp and merciless, seeking weakness. He tried again, “Of course not. I—I just—” </p><p>He just didn’t have a chance in hell, that was all.</p><p>Bianchi patted him on the stomach again—more of a punch, really, ow—and advised: “Try a blow job. The quickest way to a guy’s heart that isn’t through his stomach is to suck on his—”</p><p>“SHUT UP,” Hayato howled. “OH MY GOD, STOP, YOU DEMON.”</p><p>“I could teach you to cook instead,” she offered, smile malicious.</p><p>Despite the mental scarring that occurred from hearing his big sister talk about sucking dicks, Hayato <i>did</i> consider it that night, lying awake and contemplating the jagged edges of his heart. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to sex, not anymore. But the funny thing about Hayato not being a virgin was that it didn’t really help him out at all, not in this case, because he was in love with his boss and his boss was a <i>guy</i>. That meant—uh, a total change in anatomy, at least in the Tenth’s case. That meant a <i>dick</i>, which…</p><p>Nervous, Hayato shifted in bed, lifting up his hips so he could push his boxers down to his knees. Beneath the covers, he slid his hand down to cup himself, penis flaccid and small and fitting in his hand easily, along with his balls. He weighed them there, the softness and the squishiness and the bristle of hair, the slightly sweaty feel of all that skin, and he thought: <i>this is way too fucking weird</i>.</p><p>But he also thought of Tsuna, which he had never done before, not like this. Because you didn’t go around thinking of your friends when you wanted to jerk it, did you? No, because that’d be weird. <i>This</i> was weird, so fucking weird, but... </p><p>For all that Tsuna was Hayato’s friend, he was also <i>more</i>. He was everything Hayato had ever yearned for; he was safety and surety, he was Hayato’s god and salvation, the most precious thing. </p><p>Never, not once, had Hayato thought about touching Tsuna in a sexual way, or Tsuna touching <i>him</i>, but he was doing it now, thinking about his boss’s hands. The strength of them and how fragile Hayato would feel if it was Tsuna that was gripping his junk, holding his most vulnerable bits and playing with them, rolling his balls and jiggling his limp dick until—</p><p>Well.</p><p>It wasn’t limp any longer, now was it?</p><p>Hayato huffed a breath, ashamed and greedy, weirdly relieved. He shuddered with muted sensation, mouth gone dry from the direction of his musings. He stroked his burgeoning erection, teasing until it was hard and rosy, until the press of his fingertips against the spongy head made him shiver, lashes fluttering in the dark.</p><p>But he wasn’t sure what to think about next. Hayato had never been the type of person who idly thought about the many and varied sexual acts. He got horny sometimes and beat off whenever he needed to, but he wasn’t imaginative about it. And as he’d already realized: the sex he’d been having hadn’t been about <i>sex</i>, exactly. And how did two guys even do it, anyway? Fuck if Hayato knew, and it was <i>frustrating</i> not knowing where to go with this, to the point that he almost gave up all at once, disgusted. </p><p>His dick was hard in his hand, though, and he wanted to have this. Wanted this one shameful indulgence where he jerked off thinking about the love of his god damned life, imagining what it could be like.</p><p>Bianchi’s suggestion filtered back in unhelpfully. Hayato had been the recipient of dick sucking on occasion, and it really was nice, <i>great</i> even, so—so maybe dick sucking was the way to go? But it—<i>how</i>—it wasn’t like he had ever <i>given</i> one, he didn’t know if he could, if he was at all okay with a dick in his mouth, even if it <i>was</i> Tsuna’s.</p><p>Wow, he was so out of his depth.</p><p>He was also <i>still hard</i>, though, and he grit out a little growl and started pumping his hand, planting his heels in the mattress so he could flex his hips up and up and up into that tight squeeze. It was a little too dry but he didn’t really care, just let it help distract him from his skittishness, his nerves, while he attempted to figure this out.</p><p>What he wound up doing was thinking about Tsuna, just Tsuna. About the way that he looked when he was leaning up against Hayato’s desk at school, hands in his hoodie pocket, laughing a little. He thought of Tsuna’s wide eyes, his furrowed brows, his stupid fucking <i>hair</i>, and Hayato’s dick pulsed with arousal at the thought of getting to stroke his fingers through the stubborn fluff of it, languid and unhurried, Tsuna peering up at him from too close with a warm little smile—and Hayato’s gut started to feel like a storm, brilliant and destructive with lightning reaching out limb from limb. </p><p>Reaching down with his other hand Hayato cupped and rolled his balls, tugging gently, his breath catching. None of his touches compared to what he’d done with Emi or Hana or any of the rest. Hell, none of his solo jerk off sessions before this had <i>ever</i> compared to what he’d done with a partner. It always felt better when someone else did the touching.</p><p>So it didn’t make sense how much <i>more</i> this felt, how Hayato thought he might shake apart even before he managed to get off.</p><p>It was terrifying and thrilling and probably stupid beyond belief to do this, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care, at least not here in the dark after the hollow devastation of realizing he was <i>in love with the Tenth</i>. Instead of stopping, he caught a whimper behind his teeth and shut his eyes tight and tried to remember as vividly as possible the feeling of Tsuna pressing him back against that fucking wall, how he’d held him still and stared at him, those heavy, merciless eyes and all that focus, oh, <i>oh</i>.</p><p>It worked. Oh fuck, but it worked. Hayato felt it roar through him, dizzying, the idea of how that might translate to <i>now</i>, Hayato in his bed, exposed, working his fist over his dick to make himself come, to make the head flush dark with eagerness, with need, made slick with desire until he was jerking and trembling and sweating beneath the weight of Tsuna’s hand pinning him there, pressing him down on the bed beneath him. </p><p>Tsuna staring at him, watching him pant and whine, eyes smoldering, waiting for the moment Hayato gave it all up, surrendered it to him, arched up sharp and helpless and yes yes <i>yes</i>—</p><p>With a choked cry, Hayato tried to catch his jizz in a cupped palm. His orgasm felt like it was punched out of him, a kick to his ribs and his balls and his head, his heart a fractured, unvoiced gasp inside his too-tight chest. As he came down from it, he realized he was shaking. And then he kept on shaking, just shook and shook and shook apart, jizz congealing on his palm, sticking his fingers together, his thighs trembling and dick shriveling, balls drawn tight against his body as if after a painful blow.</p><p>He <i>shook</i>, like he was shaking the fuck apart, for much longer than his orgasm lasted, much longer than the pleasure lingered, because he was still thinking about Tsuna, <i>Tsuna</i>, and how he’d likely be disgusted by what had just transpired. </p><p>Eventually, Hayato got up and washed his hands, and spent the rest of the night trying not to think about anything at all.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Tentative, Hayato typed <i>in love with a straight guy</i> into the search engine late one desperate, insomniac night a week after, when the damned stupid idea of wooing his boss with a blowy wouldn’t get out of his head. He got a lot of forums saying variations of DON’T DO IT, STOP, IT NEVER WORKS OUT, and also a lot of manga recommendations which he grimaced and bookmarked and then stubbornly ignored. The advice from anonymous people on the internet seemed sound, at least, if heartbreakingly negative. But what else could Hayato expect, after all?<p>That Tsuna, who had been in love with Kyoko and who blushed and stuttered and obviously got turned on when confronted with images of scantily clad, beautiful women, might magically be like Hayato and come his brains out at the thought of him?</p><p>Ha.</p><p>That would be—it would be—</p><p>His throat closed up; his mind couldn’t even complete the fabrication of that thought, too choked with misery. Because Hayato <i>knew</i> it wasn’t possible, and yet, despite his determined pessimism, he felt a longing unfurl in his chest, like his heart had warmed up with hope and desire and bloomed into some monstrous, hateful flower that didn’t know it was winter all around, with no hope of surviving. Because seriously, what were the odds that two guys who had always been at least passingly interested in women and never—as far as Hayato knew—interested at <i>all</i> in men, might suddenly and inconceivably be gay for just each other?</p><p>Not good, probably, but now Hayato needed to <i>know</i>, so he found some statistics and crunched the numbers, muttering to himself and pushing up his glasses in a feverish rush, and when he got the answer he wasn’t at all surprised, but still didn’t like it very much. </p><p>Actually, he hated those odds. He felt the flower in his chest wither and crumble into sadness, like ash falling to the ground, coating his ribs and coming up his throat so he’d choke on it. He <i>hated</i> those odds, the numerical value that equaled his almost-certain future unhappiness, so he set the paper with those damning number on fire and was belligerently unrepentant about it even when it set off the smoke alarms in the living room—his own had all been turned off to easier work on his dynamite, and usually his custom ventilation systems handled it before it spread to the rest of the apartment, but—</p><p>He’d sort of burned those painful, heartbreaking numbers with a lot more fanfare than usual.</p><p>“At least you’ve got the drama of a great romance right,” Bianchi sighed, once they’d opened all the windows to let out the smoke.</p><p>Hayato just grunted.</p><p>So his sister hooked an arm around his neck and ruffled his hair with surprising tenderness. For a moment Hayato allowed himself to remain there, safe in her embrace, comforted, and then he pushed her off and grumbled, “I don’t have time for romance anyway,” which was probably true because the very next day someone flew in from Naples to kill the Tenth.</p><p>Which was fine.</p><p>Not the—not the <i>kill the Tenth</i> part, obviously, but the part where Hayato stopped thinking about whether there was at all a conceivable reality where he could be in love with Tsuna and have Tsuna love him <i>back</i>, because it… Whatever. It wasn’t like Hayato was actually gay, anyway. Which was annoying, weirdly enough, because if he was gay then maybe Hayato could understand <i>why</i> he was in love with the Tenth, why he needed him so badly, and maybe then he could find some other guy to fuck the heartbreak out of him.</p><p>But Hayato wasn’t gay, though apparently he wasn’t very straight, either. No, he was just—fuck, but he was <i>something</i>.</p><p>Tsuna’s, apparently, in all conceivable ways.<br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! this story is finished, but it's a beast to edit - hopefully i'll have the next chapter out in a week if not sooner</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It was amazing—and frustrating—how uncontrollable his emotions felt. Surging like the ocean, a tide not dictated by the moon but by fear, by weakness, by whatever it was Hayato was most scared of losing in that moment—Tsuna’s life, or Tsuna’s regard.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this continues to be so grossly over-indulgent lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<br/>
It was a group of three who’d come to kill the Tenth. CEDEF hadn’t been able to unearth much intel on them yet, other than that they were vicious and dangerous, with a grudge against a branch family of Vongola and delusions of grandeur big enough to have set their sights on Tsuna.</p>
<p>“We’ll destroy all of it,” said their leader—at least Hayato thought she was. Her name was Mia. She was resolute and sad and dripping with flames too strong for her, bright as the sun. “And we’ll start from the top, burning out each branch, each root, and even the soil—until there is nothing left of Vongola to come back from.”</p>
<p>“Look, I’m—I’m sorry,” said Tsuna, voice quiet and grim, as if he were straining already under the weight of this, their enemy’s pain, as if the consequences of some other person’s actions could be something he alone was directly responsible for, a penalty he felt beholden to pay. </p>
<p>Which wasn’t—wasn’t fair at <i>all</i>, not to anyone but especially not to Tsuna. Hayato ached and burned and <i>bristled</i> with outrage at exactly how unfair that was. </p>
<p>“Tenth…”</p>
<p>But Tsuna only shook his bowed head, so Hayato bit his own lip and fell obligingly silent, even though he’d learned to be afraid, learned to hate it whenever Tsuna got like this, so wounded and apologetic and <i>sad</i> in a way Hayato had no idea how to remedy, a way that made Hayato feel wild and protective and utterly, maddeningly helpless. He thought maybe Yamamoto hated it too if the grimace the other Guardian made was any indication; the scrape of Sasagawa shifting restlessly on the pavement behind them likely made the sentiment unanimous. </p>
<p>“You’re <i>sorry</i>,” said one of the men, face flushed with anger. “What good is that? What <i>good</i> does that do, huh? Take your sorry and—”</p>
<p>“Luca,” Mia hissed. “Hold your anger. You’ll find better use for it soon enough.”</p>
<p>“Please,” said Tsuna. “You don’t have to do this.”</p>
<p>“You’re begging us already? Curious tactic. What are you begging for, Decimo? Your life? The safety of your friends, maybe?”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to fight you!” Tsuna sounded weary, frustrated. He said, “Please don’t do this. I can promise that the people who hurt your friend will be punished. I can promise I will do everything in my power to keep this from happening again—to anyone, anywhere, not just within Vongola. <i>Please.</i> I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt enough.”</p>
<p>Behind Mia and Luca, their hollow-eyed Mist user raised a hand, snapping his wrist so that a decorative fan, heavy with deadly, pointed metal rods, unfolded—a Box weapon. He sneered. “Here’s the problem, Decimo. We really, <i>really</i> want to hurt <i>you</i>.”</p>
<p>It was always the same. </p>
<p>Hayato could script these scenes himself, by now, knew them by heart. And he knew what came next, too, and he dreaded it; he hated it; he had to grit his teeth and steel himself for the agony of it. From where he stood, Hayato could see Tsuna clearly. His boss was mere feet ahead, a seemingly small figure in jeans and a soft hoodie, caught off guard on a trip to the park with Lambo. By the time Lambo got to safety and had called and sent Hayato and the rest to Tsuna, their boss had already taken damage. The sleeve of his hoodie was shredded past the elbow, a slow drip of blood creating a small pool next to his beat up sneaker. </p>
<p>Hayato knew he should probably be looking at the enemy—no matter the familiarity of the lead-up, he should be analyzing and learning and planning for the fight ahead.</p>
<p>But he watched his boss.</p>
<p>So he saw the moment that Tsuna’s shoulders sagged, resigned, and Hayato knew—<i>knew</i>—what it meant. That the Tenth would continue to be reluctant, that he wouldn’t fight to save himself, that he would try not to cause any real damage to the enemy if he could help it, even at the cost of <i>himself</i>, and—</p>
<p>Hayato ground his teeth, chest exploding with denial, with love, with determination. And suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t bear to keep silent like a good soldier, a proper subordinate, letting his boss take the lead. They didn’t have the excuse of being children anymore to shout and scream and break rank but—but how <i>else</i> was Hayato meant to protect Tsuna when shit like this happened? He didn’t know; only knew he had to do <i>something</i>.</p>
<p>So Hayato shifted on his heel to face their newest enemy and called out, “Oi, you done bitching, yet?! So what, you think you’re the only ones who’ve been hurt by others? Like that makes it okay to seek vengeance? Screw you!”</p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun,” complained Tsuna, sounding surprised and stressed and—and not <i>resigned</i>, at least. In his peripheral, Hayato saw Tsuna’s shoulders hitching upward, straightening out of their slump. “Don’t—”</p>
<p>“Nu uh, Tenth,” Hayato forced out, though it was difficult to deny Tsuna anything. Difficult to do something he disliked, didn’t want, that made the Tenth look so disappointed—but Hayato loved him too much to be cowed, so he readied himself instead to become a target, to be the raging storm that confused their enemy, that harried them, that took their attention away from his boss, because if Hayato was a Guardian then that meant protecting Tsuna, even from himself. </p>
<p>“They’re not going to change their minds. We can’t talk them out of a fight. Besides, doesn’t matter their reasons. I won’t let them hurt you,” Hayato said, furious and stubborn and sparking like a lit fuse, thinking: <i>And I won’t give you a chance to let yourself be hurt again, not if I can help it. Why don’t you understand that you’re not expendable? Please, please don’t do this again, Tsuna!</i></p>
<p>Yamamoto chimed in. “He kind of has a point, Tsuna.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want anyone to fight!”</p>
<p>“We know,” Yamamoto said, which was good because it was all Hayato could do to keep from screaming. “But you tried, yeah? It’s not like we want to hurt <i>them</i> or anything. We just don’t want to let them hurt you, us—anyone else.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck,” shouted Luca. “Is Vongola a fucking <i>coward?”</i></p>
<p>“Used to be. Now I’m just a pacifist,” Tsuna sighed. </p>
<p>Yamamoto laughed. “We’ll be gentle!”</p>
<p>“Hey, do any of you box?!” Sasagawa called out cheerily, bouncing on his feet.</p>
<p>“...No,” said Mia.</p>
<p>The trio seemed perplexed, but Hayato only noticed it at a distance, as an inconsequential side effect. More importantly, Tsuna’s shoulders weren’t quite so lost. There was some strength in the set of them, braced against the reminder that he wasn’t alone, that his family was here with him; that if he insisted on giving up, going down, then they weren’t going to let him do it alone. He’d have to take each of them down with him, and Tsuna would never do that, never hurt them, never abandon them—the one thing Vongola Decimo <i>always</i> fought for was family, after all.</p>
<p>Tsuna groaned, tugging restlessly at his hair. “You’re all impossible! How did this become my life again?”</p>
<p>Relief—Hayato wished he could feel it. </p>
<p>But he knew that even this wouldn’t be enough—Tsuna would still try not to hurt anyone, would still try and end this by talking, by giving the enemy every opportunity to stand down, to surrender, to make a different choice. And just—<i>fuck</i>. It wasn’t fair, had <i>never</i> been fair, but perhaps the worst of it was how unjust the paradox: that Hayato could both love and hate Tsuna for being this way.</p>
<p>“What’s it matter how it happened?” said Mia with a thin smile. “Your life is forfeit.”</p>
<p>As if on cue, the Mist user finally brought his arm down, fan swinging, and between one blink and the next Tsuna’s Sky Flame was lit, blazing brightly, rushing up to meet Mia’s forward lunge even as illusions swirled to life around the rest of them. “Uh oh,” said Yamamoto when the Guardians all found themselves thigh deep in a swamp that grasped at them with brutal, sucking force. “Better than expected, huh? Don’t worry guys, I got this.”</p>
<p>“Hurry it up, idiot,” Hayato growled, heart pounding with terror at having Tsuna out of sight. “The Tenth’s counting on us!”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>It could have been like any other battle—and it was, and not even that bad of one, really, not anything that was dragged out, horrifying and painful and seemingly impossible. The three from Naples were strong, <i>too</i> strong, aided by strange Boxes none of the Vongola had seen before, but not strong enough, not for them.<p>Even still, it <i>wasn’t</i> like any other battle.</p>
<p>Because when it was over and Tsuna was slumped against Yamamoto’s side, barely standing, while Sasagawa readied a Sun Box to help speed his recovery, Hayato understood all too well why his heart hurt so badly. He had thought—had always thought—that it would be nice to have a boss and a family that he cared for, that made him want to try his hardest to live up to the honor. </p>
<p>What he hadn’t expected was how tenderly he would feel it—that they would become his life, his mission, the living soul that his body housed, protective and possessive.</p>
<p>He hadn’t planned on falling in love with his boss, or having his heart broken every time he saw Tsuna bleed.</p>
<p>“You took too many hits,” Hayato said, fumbling for a cigarette in the aftermath. Yamamoto looked at him, curious; Tsuna just winced. “You <i>still</i> tried not to hurt them, even when they were trying to kill you. Reborn would—”</p>
<p>“Reborn’s not our babysitter anymore, is he?” Tsuna interrupted, squinting up at him. “If I’m...<i>this</i>. If I’m Vongola Decimo, then…then I get to do things my way. I don’t want to fight. I don’t <i>like</i> to fight.”</p>
<p>“But you <i>have to</i>,” argued Hayato. </p>
<p>His tone in his own ears sounded thready, desperate. He should stop talking, he shouldn’t say <i>anything</i>, but it was like being seventeen all over again, wild and out of control and getting drunk with Haru and complaining—<i>he can’t keep doing this!</i>—like somehow his fear and love could change something so integral to Tsuna. </p>
<p>As if he had any power over him at all. </p>
<p>Hayato’s hands shook against his zippo. “You can’t keep doing this, Tenth! You’re going to get <i>killed</i> if you—you—”</p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun?”</p>
<p>Oh god, oh <i>fuck</i>—Hayato nearly bit his tongue until it bled, forcing the tumbling words to halt, to cease, clutching desperately at his panic and love and trying to shove them back inside where they belonged, where he could hide them. He had to keep hiding them, he <i>had</i> to, but it was so hard suddenly—felt impossible, anathema to him, it—</p>
<p>Tsuna was frowning at him now, irritation replaced with concern. “That’s always been a risk, hasn’t it?”</p>
<p>Hayato shook his head, clenching his zippo too tightly, as if it might somehow hide his trembling, a talisman against fear.</p>
<p>With effort, Tsuna stepped away from Yamamoto. The Rain Guardian let him go with an exasperated grimace, hands hovering behind their boss, ready to catch him. That’s what Hayato should have been doing—doting, protecting, reassuring. It was what he’d always done; what he’d always been satisfied with before.</p>
<p>But it was no longer enough.</p>
<p>Hadn’t been for over a year now, if Hayato was going to be honest about all of this. He loved Tsuna <i>so much</i>, and Tsuna treated himself as though he were <i>expendable</i>, as if it wouldn’t break Hayato’s heart into pieces to lose him, a fragmenting of his very soul that Hayato would never recover from. Because he knew he wouldn’t survive it. Losing Tsuna would <i>break him apart</i>. And Hayato couldn’t bear that knowledge any longer, it seemed, so all he <i>could</i> do was stand there, angry and terrified and <i>lost</i>, nagging at the Tenth like he somehow had the <i>right</i> and—</p>
<p>A few steps, and then Tsuna stood before him, swaying on his own feet and with one arm clamped over the sluggishly bleeding cut on his bicep. He looked calm. Certain, like he was still riding the effects of Hyper Mode, and yet all too devastatingly human: worn and weary and hurting. Hayato watched him with wide, too-wounded eyes, feeling like an open sore, jagged and raw and throbbing with pain, saying nothing because if he opened his mouth again there was no telling what might come out. He might scream; might rage; might beg or wail or cry.</p>
<p>He might say: <i>you’re not allowed to leave me</i>.</p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m—I’m sorry that I scared you.”</p>
<p>Hayato sucked in a breath. It took everything in him not to flinch hearing Tsuna <i>apologize</i> to him. All at once the towering, gibbering, fear-induced rage collapsed, a fire without enough tinder to sustain it. Because it was true—Hayato had no right to act like this. No matter how he felt, Tsuna didn’t feel the same, and so now Hayato was nothing more than a burden, unwanted and stupid and making a mess of fucking <i>everything</i>. </p>
<p>“No,” he denied. “No, Tenth, that’s... It—it’s just—you’re our boss. <i>We’re</i> the ones who should—”</p>
<p>“Don’t start with that again. I get it, okay?”</p>
<p>Hayato brought his cigarette to his mouth, inhaling nervously—but it was unlit, the zippo still clutched in his hand. Tsuna took another step, another. And suddenly there was Hayato’s boss so <i>close</i>, exhausted and hurt and eyes so fucking sincere that Hayato wanted to drown in them. Gently, Tsuna reached out and gripped Hayato’s shoulder, murmuring: “I don’t ever want you to risk your life, either. I really am sorry, Gokudera-kun. I had to give them a chance, but—I didn’t know it would scare you so much.”</p>
<p>“Tenth,” croaked Hayato. “I…”</p>
<p>Tsuna smiled at him, fingers squeezing in an attempt at comfort. “I’ll try and get better at dodging, or taking less damage at least. Maybe I’ll ask Hibari-san to start training with me regularly?”</p>
<p>He probably should have been incandescent with happiness that Tsuna was <i>trying</i>—offering to do better, which Hayato hadn’t expected, would never have dared to hope for, but instead Hayato’s heart quivered indignantly in his chest. “Are you <i>trying</i> to die?! That battle-crazed idiot doesn’t know the meaning of training, only murder!! No, Tenth, absolutely not!”</p>
<p>Just like that and he was nagging again, becoming a nuisance, making a fuss.</p>
<p>It was amazing—and frustrating—how uncontrollable his emotions felt. Surging like the ocean, a tide not dictated by the moon but by fear, by weakness, by whatever it was Hayato was most scared of losing in that moment—Tsuna’s life, or Tsuna’s regard.</p>
<p>Only Tsuna didn’t seem upset about it, was wincing and laughing and clinging to Hayato now for support, as if everything was fine, as if Hayato was only being a good friend, and—and that wasn’t true, or at least not the whole truth, but Hayato was wrapping his arms instinctively—<i>eagerly</i>—around his boss to help hold him up, and oh, oh <i>fuck</i> but Hayato wanted to bury his face in Tsuna’s hair, hold him tenderly and listen to him laugh forever because Tsuna was beautiful, utterly impossible and perfect and so, so very dumb if he could actually say <i>I didn’t know it would scare you so much</i> and mean it. </p>
<p>“What happened to your blind faith?” Tsuna teased. “You used to think I could defeat anyone and everything!”</p>
<p>“I…”</p>
<p><i>I fell in love with you</i>.</p>
<p>Hayato couldn’t say that, obviously, but it killed him to think that Tsuna had such a hard time remembering that they cared. That Tsuna might still consider himself No Good, still assume he didn’t matter, acting as though his pain was nothing in comparison to theirs, willing to do anything—</p>
<p>Thankfully, Sasagawa’s victorious yell interrupted them before Hayato had to wrestle out a more appropriate answer, or lose what was left of his mind and <i>kiss Tsuna</i>. </p>
<p>“Found it! I can’t believe I forgot where I put this thing, it’s like, my favorite of the—oh, did I interrupt? Sorry, sorry! I’ll just—” and there was a flare of yellow light, the Sun Guardian’s will burning through the Box, and suddenly Tsuna was mostly whole again, fairly well healed, and it was nearly enough to quell the ache in Hayato’s chest, to make it as if nothing had ever happened.</p>
<p>But only nearly.</p>
<p>Hayato knew he’d remember the way the blood still stained Tsuna’s skin, his hair, his clothes; the way it had dripped and oozed from lacerations, open gashes—because Hayato <i>always</i> remembered.  </p>
<p>Before, when they’d been fourteen and newly starting out, those memories had only urged him to be better, stronger, faster. To get to the enemy before they could get to the Tenth. They’d become an aspiration, a goal to reach, some shining, heroic example. </p>
<p>Hayato had been so fucking blind, once upon a time. Now, all he wanted was to keep holding onto his boss, to sag into him, to curl his arms around Tsuna’s waist and bury his face in the crook of his neck and just <i>breathe</i> for a moment, to feel him solid against him, alive and safe and <i>his</i>.</p>
<p>Hayato never wanted to let go.</p>
<p>But he had to.</p>
<p>“Hey,” said Yamamoto, “CEDEF’s got clean up. You guys hungry at all? Let’s go to my dad’s, eat some good food. Unwind a little.”</p>
<p>“I am <i>starving</i> to the <i>extreme</i>,” Sasagawa groaned, pocketing his Box. “Let’s go, let’s go!”</p>
<p>Tsuna untangled himself from Hayato, stepping back to look up at him and—and maybe it was stupid, probably it was ridiculous, just Hayato’s fucked up heart so riotous with emotion that it was projected out onto the world, finding hidden meaning where there was none, transforming reality into absurdity, but—it seemed Tsuna looked at him with a question in his eyes that was half-wary, half-apologetic. </p>
<p>As if he knew Hayato wasn’t satisfied. </p>
<p>As if he knew that he couldn’t actually give what Hayato wanted.</p>
<p>“Tenth,” Hayato said, wishing to wipe that expression from Tsuna’s eyes. But what could he say? The fear was still in him, the brutal honesty he couldn’t give voice to. It was like he held a mouth full of broken glass, sharp edges resting on his tongue, threatening to rend, to become a weapon if he dared spit them out. </p>
<p>So he swallowed instead, all those jagged pieces hurting on the way down.</p>
<p>Tsuna blinked up at him. Indecision softened his mouth, opening and closing hesitantly on words he was second-guessing now, his Intuition having steered him straight to the heart of Hayato’s uncharacteristic complaints but taking him no further. </p>
<p>And suddenly…Hayato only felt tired. A bone deep weariness, a white wash of exhaustion. Ash blanketing him, snuffing him out. He didn’t know what to say to Tsuna; what he <i>could</i> say. Hayato looked away from him, over his shoulder toward where Yamamoto stood, a worried furrow between his brows as he watched them. How surreal, Hayato thought—it was as if he wasn’t himself anymore. Love had turned him strange, had transformed him into someone new. Someone who was scared; someone who forgot his place in all his terror. </p>
<p>It was no wonder Tsuna and Yamamoto were looking at him in that way, as if they didn’t recognize him any longer. </p>
<p>“Yeah? What is it?” Tsuna prompted.</p>
<p>But Hayato merely shook his head.</p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun…”</p>
<p>“Oi!” called Yamamoto. “Tsuna, you ready? We can wash off upstairs first, if you want. <i>Then</i> get food.”</p>
<p>When Hayato didn’t say anything more, averting his gaze, Tsuna stepped back a little farther, cleared his throat and said awkwardly: “Yeah. Sounds good, Yamamoto-kun. Gokudera-kun, are you uh—you coming?”</p>
<p>Hayato finally got his cigarette lit. Took the time to exhale a lungful of smoke before finding a lie to tell. “Can’t. Promised I’d help Bianchi with something.” He dredged up a smile for the Tenth, somehow. “See you later, Boss.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>He didn’t go anywhere, though the urge was there—to go and find some willing body to take him in, to let him feel safe and surrounded and connected to a living, breathing human being. Understanding what drove him into their arms, however, made him question whether <i>knowing</i> would ruin it, make him realize that it was little more than a paltry stand-in for what he really wanted: Tsuna.<p>Tsuna safe in his arms, pressed against his body, breathing in time.</p>
<p>For a while Hayato laid in bed and considered what this meant for him, this realization that he wasn’t just in love with Tsuna, but dangerously so, and how it affected him. How it had wormed its way into all he was and all he had and how he was supposed to go on living his life like usual, now. </p>
<p><i>I should go find a girl</i>, he told himself. <i>Or email Eri or Hana or… See if it’s still enough.</i></p>
<p>But he—he didn’t <i>want</i> to. </p>
<p>And the pure, simple truth of the matter was it wasn’t about being gay or straight—it was just that none of them were <i>Tsuna</i>, and now that Hayato knew what he wanted, he couldn’t <i>stop</i> wanting. Dangerous or not, Hayato knew there was no hiding from this, no more pretending. </p>
<p>Tsuna was everything, after all. Bigger and brighter than anything else.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>In the end, curiosity and that itching, restless <i>need</i> won out over any sort of instinctive aversion, and Hayato got off his bed and onto his computer and—and looked into just how, exactly, sex between two guys was supposed to work. The results were eye-opening? And sort of traumatizing? Because there was a <i>lot</i> to be found on the internet, apparently, some of which was horrifying and a lot of which was surely idealized, but Hayato was smart and dedicated and three days later he came out of a research bender with several ideas to work with.<p>To be honest, the butt thing was tripping Hayato up the most. </p>
<p>He couldn’t tell if that was one of those idealized things or not, though thankfully there seemed to be plenty of alternatives to penetration. But Hayato remembered how good the act could be, the way he’d felt so impossibly connected and—and maybe it wasn’t the be-all end-all of sex, but everything else had to do with <i>touching dicks</i>, and maybe if Hayato could figure out how to like the butt stuff then—then maybe the boss wouldn’t mind what hole he was sticking it in, so long as he was <i>sticking it in</i>, and—</p>
<p>Fucking <i>fuck</i>. </p>
<p>Hayato buried his face in his hands, cheeks hot and body sparking and absolutely god damned terrified. </p>
<p>And also kind of...<i>really</i> turned on, actually. </p>
<p>Realizing that, he squirmed in his chair a bit, embarrassed and excited. While he didn’t know what all it was that had him turned on, he figured it was pretty safe to bet it was at least in part that he’d been thinking about the Tenth—about <i>Tsuna</i>—in a sexual context. Wildly, he found himself also hoping that the idea of being penetrated had a hand in turning him on.</p>
<p>Because Hayato had stumbled across some interesting porn in the anal section that included strap-ons and dildos and prostate milking from heterosexual couples, and while at first he hadn’t thought that was going to help <i>him</i>, maybe it did? Because if men who were with women could get hard or turned on by being fucked up the ass by their wives—or women pretending to be their wives, or who were their Dommes, or—there had been a <i>lot</i> of different porn in his research, okay—then maybe <i>Hayato</i> could as well.</p>
<p>And Hayato knew it was dumb—he still remembered those statistics and the astronomical odds against him, but—maybe Tsuna didn’t need to be gay to want Hayato. Maybe, <i>maybe</i>. Maybe if Hayato could like it enough, could hide his dick but offer his hole, then maybe Tsuna really would give it a chance, maybe—</p>
<p>This was probably unhealthy thinking, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>But Hayato didn’t much care. It just—it all hurt <i>so much</i>, loving Tsuna and wanting him and worrying for him and being...afraid. </p>
<p>So very afraid. </p>
<p>The fear battered at him constantly, it seemed, and so it was easy to feel weak, to feel small, to feel so desperate and alone and full of yearning that this way of thinking felt...better. Felt like <i>relief</i>, that for just this one, shining moment, Hayato might allow himself to consider a solution that didn’t end in <i>complete</i> heartbreak. So he did. He let himself imagine it, let himself open up to the idea, and—and <i>wow</i>, but even despite his successful handy before, it was still a surprise at how turned on Hayato was. Thinking about how those men had moaned with their asses in the air, fingers prying them open and vulnerable and—and Tsuna’s eyes on him, his hands, his mouth. </p>
<p>Tsuna, Tsuna, <i>Tsuna</i>. </p>
<p>And okay, <i>okay</i>. Hayato needed to do some shopping—further experimentation was required, after all. But first he—he really had to take care of his erection and the need coiling his belly tight and tense, the heavy weight of longing brought on by the briefest thought of Tsuna actually <i>wanting</i> him. </p>
<p>With a little bitten off groan Hayato reached for his belt buckle but stopped, heart kicking up in speed because—it wasn’t like he <i>couldn’t</i> try out something a little new. Several of the websites had suggested that anal sex was actually far less messy than one would first think, but Hayato still felt weird about sticking his fingers up…<i>there</i>. In there. Anywhere near there at <i>all</i>. But that was fine, because those same websites had given suggestions as to how to make certain you were <i>thoroughly</i> clean if you wanted to be, and—and—</p>
<p>There was an enema kit in the bathroom. Bianchi was currently out of the country with Reborn, so Hayato was alone. </p>
<p>Right. </p>
<p>Right, okay, Hayato was—was going to try fingering his own asshole.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>It had been more than a little weird to use the enema kit on himself in <i>this</i> context. It had been enough to soften his dick, too, but once Hayato was back in his room with the door shut and locked and a small pump bottle of lotion at hand he wasn’t about to give up. Not after he’d put in the effort already, so—<p>He unbuckled his belts, stripped off his jeans and shoved off his boxers. </p>
<p><i>There</i>, he thought, nodding to himself in satisfaction. <i>That’s, uh… That’s a start.</i></p>
<p>Getting onto the bed was a little more intimidating, because somehow that was making this <i>real</i>. Hayato was really and actually about to try and push a finger up his asshole, to wiggle it in and see what it felt like, and that wasn’t anything he had ever remotely planned on trying before, not ever. </p>
<p>But he wanted the Tenth.</p>
<p>He wanted Tsuna to touch him and kiss him and hold him and—and he wanted the Tenth to <i>embrace</i> him. </p>
<p>Oh. Oh, <i>there</i>, that was—</p>
<p>Shivering, his softened cock twitched a little, fattening up with blood, with desire. Because Hayato <i>did</i> want that, wanted it so much, and maybe he’d never have the boss’ love or his body in a real sense, but he could have this fantasy at least, couldn’t he? Could get a taste of what it might be like if he did this <i>with</i> the Tenth. Pretend like Tsuna didn’t mind that Hayato was a guy, that Tsuna still <i>wanted</i> him, wanted to hold him tight and sink inside. </p>
<p>Close. <i>Intimate</i>. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” muttered Hayato, suddenly breathless. Almost of their own accord, like his body had only been <i>waiting</i> for this moment, this realization—his knees spread across his sheets, digging into the mattress. His hand shook when he pumped the lotion into it, and shook still when he smeared it over his pointer and middle finger, getting them slick and slippery.</p>
<p>They shook even more when he finally arched his back and awkwardly spread his butt cheeks apart with his dry hand, so he could more easily touch a finger to his asshole.</p>
<p><i>Weird</i>, he decided, and then pressed <i>in</i> before he could lose his nerve.</p>
<p>And that was <i>still</i> weird, actually. There wasn’t any part of this that <i>wasn’t</i> weird, from the position of his body to the greasy feeling of his ass smeared with lotion, to the strangeness of intrusion. He didn’t know if he could feel anything at all, if the lack of sensation was because he was so focused or because he just wasn’t lucky enough to have a lot of sensitivity here or—or something, anything, Hayato didn’t <i>fucking know</i> because everything about this was weird and strange and terrifying. </p>
<p>But Hayato <i>still wanted</i>—so he focused on being careful, on taking calming breaths, on trying to do this <i>right</i>. </p>
<p>The problem was that the finger wasn’t going in very far, his body unwilling to yield. He was too tense, too stressed, this was all so <i>new</i>. Hayato kept taking those steadying breaths and also started rubbing cautiously against his hole, trying to get used to the touch. <i>Still weird</i>, but Hayato could handle it. He could handle anything for the Tenth, after all, and this—this was for him, wasn’t it? This was for Tsuna, so Tsuna could fit himself inside Hayato’s body—</p>
<p>“Ah,” Hayato breathed, because the idea of Tsuna <i>inside</i> him, so intimate and overwhelmingly close, sent arousal flushing warm through him. For a brief, stunning instant <i>everything</i> felt good. It made Hayato want <i>more</i>, pressing around until he felt his body give a little, then pushing a little harder until his finger sunk in, not quite to the first knuckle.</p>
<p>Then he paused, trying to decide on the next step. </p>
<p>Very carefully, he did not think about what he might look like, awkwardly arranged on his bed and gone still and uncertain with the tip of his finger just barely resting inside his ass.</p>
<p>Which was...sort of throbbing around it.</p>
<p>Fucking <i>weird</i>.</p>
<p>“This shouldn’t be so difficult,” he grunted, words soft and vague, because weird or not Gokudera Hayato wasn’t a <i>quitter</i>, so he was already trying to wiggle his finger in deeper—and there was a slight burn, a tightness, and the confusion of feeling his ass around his finger and his finger in his ass at the same time—two sets of nerves being affected, and which one was he meant to pay attention to? Which one felt better? How was he even meant to focus on <i>anything</i> when the reality of being breached like this, having something press in and in and <i>in</i> was taking his breath away and destroying his thought processes. It was so <i>weird</i>, so fucking strange and impossible and—and seemingly <i>huge</i>, a single finger shouldn’t feel so <i>distracting</i>, should it? </p>
<p>He didn’t know. He <i>didn’t know</i>, and all he could do was keep on pushing his finger inside, opening up to it, letting it—</p>
<p>“Oh, <i>shit</i>. There, wait...”</p>
<p>Hayato made an incredulous little noise, breath coming fast, suddenly, because that had been—<i>what</i>, what had that even been? A moment of heat, a sharp jolt of sensation? A culmination finally breaking through the fog of his nerves? </p>
<p>Whatever it was, it fled nearly as fast as it had occurred, and Hayato was left hunched over on his bed with his finger in past the second knuckle—past that tight ring of muscle into the space beyond, and maybe <i>that</i> was it, the cause of that lustful zing? </p>
<p>Fuck. <i>Fuck</i>. He didn’t know, had no fucking <i>clue</i> what he was doing or feeling or anything and just—he really, <i>really</i> wished this wasn’t so fucking weird.</p>
<p>But there had been something powerful there for a moment, and now that he’d done it with the one finger he wanted to know if he could do it with another—but when he started to pull the finger out so he could better cram two in at once, he made another shocked little breathless noise, chest getting hot and tight as his knuckle dragged <i>back</i> past the tight clench of his ass, and fuck—<i>fuck</i>—was that—</p>
<p>Good?</p>
<p>Hayato tried it again. Twisted his hand forward, finger sliding almost smoothly inside; and then back out again until only the tip remained, before pushing in deep again—slow, so that he could feel that tight press past the inner ring, the way it burned and felt—</p>
<p>Fuck, felt like he needed another finger. <i>Now</i>.</p>
<p>It took a little doing. The angle was shit and Hayato had never done this before, and no matter how much his ass felt slick with lotion inside and out by this point his hole was still a pretty tight pucker, resisting intrusion. But he forced it in with a grunt of effort, the muscle made to stretch in order to accommodate, and then he was gasping, brain crackling with feedback, because two also felt a little weird, new and strange and not exactly <i>pleasurable</i>, and his fingers were kind of cramped and his knees were slipping, thighs already aching, but—</p>
<p>He liked being spread like this. </p>
<p>Liked the <i>burn</i> of it, a feeling of fullness that he couldn’t escape. Liked the idea of seeing how much he could fit up his ass, wondered if he could—could take <i>three</i>, or four, or—</p>
<p>Just barely, now, he could imagine what it might be like.</p>
<p>Holding steady as Tsuna’s erection sank into him, the solid, hot length of it stretching Hayato wide, prying him apart until he was just—utterly open, helpless to do anything else save <i>take</i> it, overcome as Tsuna took up space <i>inside</i> him, a relentless pressure that would throb through Hayato’s whole being, something he couldn’t ignore, a feeling that would overwhelm him. </p>
<p>It would be <i>so much</i>.</p>
<p>Hayato wanted it so, so badly. Straining, he tried to force his fingers deeper, to mimic it; couldn’t contain a whimper of disappointment when he failed to find a comfortable angle, let alone the burn he was already craving.</p>
<p>Tsuna could probably do it, though.</p>
<p>Tsuna could stuff him <i>so full</i>, until Hayato felt like he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but whine and thrash about weakly and—oh god, oh <i>fuck</i>—but Hayato wanted more, wanted <i>everything</i>, would get so desperate for it that Tsuna would have to press him down—yes, fuck <i>yes</i>, he’d press him down onto the bed, hold him tight so all Hayato could do was give in, give up, let Tsuna claim his body just as he’d claimed his heart, and oh, <i>oh</i>—it would be <i>so good</i>, so fucking good to let Tsuna fuck him like that, to let him thrust inside again and again and—</p>
<p><i>Fuck</i>. </p>
<p>With a gasp, Hayato was already coming. </p>
<p>Which was a bit of a surprise, because he’d been so distracted with the fantasy and the fingers in his ass that hadn’t even been aware he’d gotten hard again, hadn’t noticed the heaviness of his balls, hadn’t bothered to lay a hand on himself—only <i>in</i>—and now here he was, two fingers deep and come all over and—and still not satisfied, actually.</p>
<p>He still wanted <i>more</i>.</p>
<p>With a grunt, Hayato carefully pried his fingers free, trying to memorize the way his ass felt, how it ached and throbbed and how <i>empty</i> now somehow felt weirder than <i>full</i>.</p>
<p>Well then. </p>
<p>Looked like there wasn’t going to be a problem about whether or not Hayato was willing to be on the receiving end. That was good. Simpler, really. And considering how Hayato still wanted more, probably meant it was <i>definitely</i> time to buy some proper equipment to experiment with online. </p>
<p>After all, research was important.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>He might have bought too much.<p>But hey, he was an inquisitive guy, and now that Hayato knew of the possibilities he was fucking <i>ravenous</i> to try more out, to learn all the ways Tsuna might make him feel good—even if it was only via fantasies in his head</p>
<p>Luck, however, kept him from even being able to <i>open</i> his boxes once they were delivered. </p>
<p>Oregano called, saying, “There was an attack on the transport—all three of the Ricci branch underlings escaped, along with their Boxes. We’re still looking for them, but the likelihood that they’re headed toward you is fairly high.”</p>
<p>The five of them—Chrome, Hayato, Yamamoto, Sasagawa, and the Tenth—had congregated once more at Yamamoto’s dad’s, in one of the newly installed private booths. The booths had been Reborn’s idea, complete with sound proofing and security measures that he and Gianni had been happy to design and fund in order to give Vongola Decimo better protection. But when told of the incident with Mia, Reborn had apparently ordered Tsuna to <i>handle it like the adult you supposedly are</i>, and extended his trip with Bianchi in Spain. Lambo was in school, and Tsuna had texted Hibari but no one even knew where Hibari <i>was</i> at any given time—not that anyone actually expected the Cloud Guardian to <i>show up</i> even if they did—and Kusakabe hadn’t gotten back to them yet and—</p>
<p>Why couldn’t they catch a damned <i>break</i> already?</p>
<p>“There’s no telling how soon they’ll make it back,” Tsuna explained. “Oregano didn’t have details about their resources, or even who helped them escape custody. But considering how quickly and easily they got to Namimori from Naples last time, it could be—ugh. Now, actually. They could show up at any time.”</p>
<p>“Won’t they take the chance to recover and regroup?” Chrome asked, brow furrowed. </p>
<p>“They’re manic,” said Sasagawa. “I’ve fought pugilists like them before. As soon as the fight starts everything else fades away, there’s nothing left except victory and they’ll push harder than their body can take to try and achieve that goal, ignoring every injury, every chance to retreat.”</p>
<p>Yamamoto shook his head. “But that’s—that’s in the moment, isn’t it? Chrome’s right, it makes sense for them to recover. To heal up and get back into form.”</p>
<p>“Do you stop being in the game, even if you don’t have a glove on your hand?”</p>
<p>“No,” Yamamoto admitted. </p>
<p>Sasagawa nodded. “The fight doesn’t end that easily. If there’s breath in them, then they won’t stop. Their determination is <i>extreme</i>. They’ll be coming straight for Sawada.”</p>
<p>Tsuna frowned, staring down at his clenched hands. </p>
<p>As always, Hayato watched him; could guess what their boss was thinking, the way his brain would twist this. Still so unsure of himself, still so willing to believe that everything that went wrong could be traced back to No Good Tsuna—<i>Sorry, this is my fault again. Because I’m Vongola, because I decided to choose the mafia, this is your life now. They’re coming for me, but you’ll all be caught in the crossfire. It’s all my fault.</i></p>
<p>That Tsuna at least respected his Guardians and their choices enough to not to say any of that aloud—at least not any longer—was a relief, albeit a small one. </p>
<p>It was one of those things that made Tsuna so <i>good</i>, so impossible to ignore, so very precious and necessary. That empathy, that worry, that determination to protect them all, even when they didn’t need it, even when he was going about it all the wrong way—Hayato loved it. Hated it. Went mad with it, sometimes, wondering what he needed to do—what all of them needed to do—in order to make Vongola Decimo someone who could live without fear, without hesitation.</p>
<p>For years, now, Hayato had known that this was his own failure, not Tsuna’s.</p>
<p>But somehow, in the wake of the most recent battle and the destructive force of Hayato’s feelings, of the writhing suffocation of everything he wanted to say and <i>didn’t dare</i>, and the way Tsuna kept sacrificing himself again and again and again, no matter what Hayato did, no matter how he tried to make his boss see that it <i>mattered</i> whether he bled or not, Tsuna’s silent reaction only managed to—to make him <i>angry</i>. To come off as self-pitying. Aggravating. Fucking <i>stupid as shit</i>.</p>
<p>It wasn’t a helpful kind of feeling.</p>
<p>“We’ll need protection detail again,” Hayato decided, already pulling a notebook out of his pocket, trying to shake off the frustration by focusing on shift rotations, and paying attention to what mattered most of all—Tsuna’s safety. “This will be so much easier to manage once we’ve graduated.”</p>
<p>Tsuna grimaced. “I don’t need protection!”</p>
<p>“Yes, you <i>do</i>,” Hayato said, as evenly as he could.</p>
<p>“I’ll be in spring training by then,” Yamamoto mused. Hayato’s pencil dug too sharply into his notebook because he couldn’t <i>deal with that</i> right now, couldn’t handle that kind of selfishness, but then Sasagawa joined in, saying, “I’ve been saving up all year to go on a world-tour of boxing gyms. I leave just after the new year.”</p>
<p>It felt like a detonation within him, a remotely activated bomb exploding within the cage of Hayato’s flesh, all hot and putrid rage, all billowing smoke and fury. The pencil in his hand snapped clean in half and he was yelling, “That’s <i>later</i>, damn you. You can both abandon the Tenth to die <i>later</i>. But right now you’re here and you’re going to <i>protect</i> him for fuck’s sake and—”</p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun! <i>Stop</i> it!”</p>
<p>Tsuna’s voice had gone from petulant to sharp and fierce, ringing in Hayato’s ears. Hayato blinked, bewildered, the pencil falling from his hand and—Tsuna reached across the table, eyes like fire and mouth twisted, chin gone stubborn. His hand landed on Hayato’s forearm, grip so strong that it startled Hayato into silence, into stillness, the aftermath of all that roaring fear—because of course it had been fear; it seemed to <i>always</i> be about fear these days—blowing away, dissipating, revealing the cracked wreckage of Hayato’s heart on clear display. </p>
<p>Ashamed, Hayato dropped his gaze to Tsuna’s hand, the knuckles rough with countless scars, and—</p>
<p>What had been the heat of anger flushing up his neck and into his face shifted, suddenly, from aggravation to butterflies, all his attention focusing briefly on the feel of his boss’ palm pressed against his skin, those fingers wrapped around Hayato’s forearm, so blessedly tight, holding onto him fiercely. Those <i>fingers</i>, oh god, oh god—it was horrible, it was the <i>worst thing</i>, but all Hayato could think about was what he’d done alone in his bed, ass clenching greedily around his own fingers and how much better it would have been if they had been Tsuna’s, <i>Tsuna’s</i>—</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p><i>Fuck</i>.</p>
<p>“It’s not abandonment,” Tsuna was saying. “It’s just having a life. Even if we’re with the mafia now, it doesn’t mean we have to stop living, you know?”</p>
<p>Hayato couldn’t look at him. </p>
<p>His face was probably flaming red at this point, and he wished desperately that he hadn’t put his hair back in a ponytail because now the back of his neck was on display, his burning ears, his brightly flushed cheeks. He felt so <i>obvious</i>, so utterly awful and gross and wrong, having these lewd thoughts right here, at a meeting where they <i>should</i> have been discussing how best to protect the Tenth, and not—not—</p>
<p>Not <i>fantasize</i>.</p>
<p>“I…” </p>
<p>Tsuna’s hand flexed around Hayato’s arm. It was meant to be reassuring, probably, but Hayato was turned around and fucked up and none of this was supposed to have happened, this was <i>not</i> supposed to have been his life. He wasn’t supposed to want Tsuna like this—painfully, with everything in him—and he was absolutely <i>not</i> supposed to fail at doing his damned <i>job</i> because he was horny.</p>
<p>“I’ll be back,” he blurted. He twisted awkwardly, trying not to think or feel or do anything else incriminating, until Tsuna blinked and let him go, sitting back.</p>
<p>“...What?”</p>
<p>“I… I’m goin’ for a smoke,” Hayato muttered, and before Tsuna or anyone else—because fuck, <i>shit</i>, it wasn’t enough for Hayato to lose his cool in front of the Tenth, no, it had to be in front of <i>everyone else</i>, too—could stop him he’d snagged his jacket and fled the room and out the restaurant. </p>
<p>The cigarette had been an excuse, but Hayato fumbled one out and lit up, hoping it would help calm him down. </p>
<p>The steady inhale-exhale was a monotony that soothed. The cigarette crackled faintly as it burned down unevenly, red embers flaring and then settling into honeycombed ash, ready to be flicked away. Hayato turned his focus there, tried to narrow his mind to a single point, a stillness that let the rest of the world fade away. Tried calming himself, gathering up the tattered remains of something he supposed might have been his dignity if he was someone who cared about shit like that at all, and—</p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p>Hayato coughed on a throat full of smoke.</p>
<p>A few awkward steps away was Tsuna, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket and shoulders hiked up high, obviously uncomfortable. But he was <i>here</i>, had come out after Hayato. Worried or concerned or bothered or—or something similar to that, at least, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise after everything they’d gone through, after all these years of battle and hardship and <i>friendship</i>, that Hayato could matter enough that Tsuna might come out after him, but…</p>
<p>Somehow it still was. </p>
<p>He wondered if he should feel horrified that his stupid, impossible feelings were troubling the Tenth. Maybe. Probably. But mostly Hayato just felt happy and bitter about the happiness, and—and wasn’t <i>that</i> a strange combination?</p>
<p>Ever since Hayato had learned that he was in love with the Tenth, he’d felt so terribly, numbingly lonely with it. </p>
<p>Which was silly, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>Yeah. It was silly. Just because Tsuna wasn’t <i>in</i> love with him didn’t mean that Hayato wasn’t loved. Of course Tsuna cared for him. He cared for all of them, his family and friends and—and it mattered, it really did, that Tsuna worried about him, that Tsuna had followed him, had chosen not to leave him alone to smoke off whatever mood was making him so <i>strange</i>, but Hayato…</p>
<p>Hayato still felt lonely, somehow.</p>
<p>Even now, even here. </p>
<p>“Boss,” he said—though it may have been more of a surprised splutter. His skin, which had gradually begun to cool, heated up once more: shame, embarrassment, longing. The sky was a bright, effortless blue and Tsuna looked beautiful—ordinary and extraordinary all at once, an impossible combination that Hayato couldn’t walk away from, couldn’t ignore, couldn’t <i>help</i> but to love, it seemed.</p>
<p>Tsuna scuffed his sneaker against the pavement. “You uh...you okay?”</p>
<p>“No,” Hayato said.</p>
<p>And—fuck, but he hadn’t meant to say that. It was like after the battle all over again, the words tumbling out of him in a cascade of stupidity, of self-immolation. Because this couldn’t be anything other than destructive, giving even a hint of the truth. Hayato couldn’t hide from how he felt anymore, but he still had to <i>hide</i>. Tsuna couldn’t know, could never know, he couldn’t—</p>
<p>“You want to talk about it?” </p>
<p>—he couldn’t handle knowing that all Hayato wanted these days was <i>him</i>, as base and human as you could ever want someone, animal and primal and mindlessly, stupidly. </p>
<p>Hayato laughed weakly. “Not really.”</p>
<p>Some of the awkwardness was slipping from Tsuna’s shoulders, the self-consciousness shed in favor of focusing on Hayato. His boss hummed, looking about the street, the storefronts, the slow-moving cars as they passed by, sidling closer and closer until Hayato had to flick away his cigarette so that he wouldn’t be breathing smoke directly into Tsuna’s face.</p>
<p>He was so <i>close</i>, but he was still deliberately not looking at Hayato. As if it might be a mercy, a kindness, to not have all of Tsuna’s focus directed at him. </p>
<p>It was, and it wasn’t. </p>
<p>Hayato wanted him so badly it hurt, but he’d rather hurt than not have Tsuna at all. </p>
<p>“You can talk to me about—about anything,” Tsuna said. “I hope you know that. I know I haven't always uh, always been good at that. I was too busy worrying about myself, I guess, and I’m—I’m sorry if I didn’t notice, if—”</p>
<p>“Tenth,” Hayato huffed. “Shut up, would you?”</p>
<p>Surprised, Tsuna did. </p>
<p>“You always think everything’s your fault. That’s what pissed me off just now. I could see it on your face, the way you wanted to apologize to everyone. You say you’ve chosen the mafia, but I—I don’t think you have.”</p>
<p>“...What? W-why? Why would you say that?”</p>
<p>Tsuna had forgotten to look away. Now, Hayato held his boss’ gaze in defiance of his own fears, his own struggles. It felt easy, probably because he was doing this for Tsuna, to protect him. Hayato felt as though he’d gone soft and melting and fire-bright inside, a storm brewing sweetly on the horizon. </p>
<p>He said, “Cowardice, pacifism, whatever you want to call it—you keep turning your back on us.”</p>
<p>Shock bloomed across Tsuna’s face. </p>
<p>Hayato guessed that made sense; couldn’t imagine anyone who would ever have guessed that Gokudera Hayato would be the one to say this to Vongola Decimo, but here they were. Here he was. And apparently he wasn’t done, either, because he kept going, cracked right on down the middle and so fucking <i>tired</i> of fighting against fear, finally allowing himself to bleed out at least some truth. To say: “You can’t <i>leave</i> us. Every time you get hurt, every time you <i>allow</i> yourself to bleed, to bruise, to break—you’re—you’re—”</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck,” breathed Tsuna.</p>
<p>Hayato couldn’t get the rest of the words out, his throat was too thick. <i>Why</i> was it so thick, so tight, he was—he was crying, wasn’t he? </p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun, hey, it’s okay, it’s all right! I, I swear I’m not going to die, I’m not—fuck!”</p>
<p>Reaching up, Hayato touched trembling fingers to his cheeks, felt the hot drip of tears.</p>
<p>Huh.</p>
<p>He hadn’t even noticed.</p>
<p>Tsuna made a low, helpless noise. Then he stepped in even closer, clutching at Hayato’s arm again, a touch that shouldn’t have felt like <i>so much</i>, but always did because it was Tsuna, <i>Tsuna</i>, and Hayato was in love with him in a way that was horrible and brilliant and wonderful and impossible and—a mess. What a fucking, stupid-ass mess he’d gotten himself into. </p>
<p>“Gokudera-kun, c’mon. What do I do to make you feel better?!” </p>
<p>“I don’t <i>know</i>,” Hayato said, because he didn’t have a better answer—not a reasonable one, not one he could ask and expect to be granted. He didn’t know, he didn’t fucking <i>know</i>, but he seriously needed to get a handle on himself and his contrary, petulant emotions, because this was fast becoming the worst outcome that ever could have happened aside of Hayato straight up shouting in the Tenth’s face: <i>love me how I love you!</i></p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Tsuna said, and everything about the way he said it sounded helpless, confused, hurt.</p>
<p>Hayato shook his head in denial, stubbornly trying not to lean in, to drop his forehead down onto Tsuna’s shoulder though he was tempted to do just that. The urge was born of stupidity, no doubt, because Hayato only wanted to see how far he could go, how much he could get away with before Tsuna stiffened up and backed away, realizing what it was Hayato really wished for, which was—everything.</p>
<p>Hayato knew better, though. </p>
<p>He <i>knew better</i> than to hope, so it came as a surprise when Tsuna told him, “I <i>am</i> sorry,” and then his hand was sliding up to grasp at Hayato’s shoulder, tugging at him, pulling him in and—</p>
<p>Tsuna was pulling him down and into a hug, wrapping his arms around Hayato’s back and breath puffing against Hayato’s neck, cheek against Hayato’s ear. He whispered I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don’t cry and Hayato made a wounded noise, some hurt-animal sound and let himself bury his hot and sticky face into the soft folds of Tsuna’s hoodie. It smelled like him. Was warm from his body. It felt—</p>
<p>Good.</p>
<p>Painful.</p>
<p>Hayato couldn’t bring himself to hug Tsuna back except that he already was, clutching at him hard. “You’re the most important thing,” he breathed, and hoped that between his mouth pressed against fabric and the sudden congestion of his nose from the crying fit, Tsuna wouldn’t be able to hear him.</p>
<p>But Tsuna did hear him, going so quiet Hayato thought he’d stopped breathing. Then, in a small voice: “Because I’m your boss?”</p>
<p><i>Yes</i>, Hayato should say.</p>
<p>It would be safer, it would help him to hide. It would even be true, if not the whole truth. But Hayato didn’t know anymore how to see the world at that distance; he didn’t know how to exist without this love inside him, ruining him. And in the end he supposed it didn’t matter what pieces of himself he gave away, because even if Tsuna held him at arm's length, or walked away, Hayato would still love him, still protect and cherish him. </p>
<p>So he said, “No. Because you’re <i>you</i>.”</p>
<p>“...Oh.”</p>
<p>Hayato huffed a laugh, though it lacked amusement. He had a headache coming in and his eyes ached, though he thought at least the tears had stopped leaking out. Already the small of his back was starting to hurt from bending forward, though that kind of pain hardly mattered. Not with the Tenth holding him, hands gentle and steady against Hayato’s back. But, because he never wanted to move ever again, never wanted this moment to change, to shatter, to go away, Hayato knew he needed to end it. </p>
<p>“We should go back in,” he mumbled, soft cotton against his lips, his tongue. “You need protection detail and I don’t trust anyone else to set it up.”</p>
<p>Tsuna groaned. “You <i>always</i> think I need protecting.”</p>
<p>“Well yeah,” Hayato said.</p>
<p>Tsuna sighed and began drawing back, arms falling away, shuffling his feet to create space between them. “I don’t…”</p>
<p>Hayato closed his eyes, straightening slowly. Cold everywhere but for the memory of where the Tenth had touched him. “You don’t what? Need protection? Forgive me if I disagree with you on that one, Boss.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s just...I don’t know what you see in me.” This time it was Tsuna who huffed a laugh, as devoid of amusement as Hayato’s had been. “Stupid, right? It’s so <i>stupid</i>, but. But after all this time, you still...you still care about me. And I never...I don’t know. I think I forget that you do, sometimes. Forget that you can know me—really know me—and still somehow think that I...that I matter.”</p>
<p>This was it, this was exactly what Hayato had known—that Tsuna never saw his own worth, even now. Not readily. Not easily. But to hear him <i>say</i> it still felt like a blow, like the worst kind of failure. Hayato blinked his eyes open, staring aghast at Tsuna. His boss was a little flushed, features crumpled up in guilt and awkwardness, brow furrowed in confusion, as if—as if he wanted to understand, like he was <i>trying</i> to figure it out, exactly how much he might mean to Hayato. “That...You…”</p>
<p>Tsuna grimaced, gaze jumping here and there, everywhere but Hayato. “I act like I’m more mature, like I know what I’m doing, who I want to be. But I’m still just—just me.”</p>
<p>“You’re perfect,” Hayato said.</p>
<p>“I’m <i>not</i>.”</p>
<p>Hayato fought a scowl, reaching up to shove at his bangs, tug at his ponytail, trying to figure out how to <i>deal</i> with this. “Jesus, Tenth.”</p>
<p>“I’m—I’m an idiot. I avoid thinking about things because they scare me, I always get so caught up in my own head that I forget how far we’ve come. I make the same mistakes over and over and over again and—”</p>
<p>“Hey, whoa!”</p>
<p>“—I keep <i>scaring</i> you. Which is—I don’t know. I don’t know how to think about it. I don’t know why I—”</p>
<p>Hayato reached out, clapping his palms gently against Tsuna’s cheeks. More sound than force, only enough to startle him into blinking, into derailing his train of thought. “Don’t worry about me,” Hayato said, and he didn’t know what his face was doing that had Tsuna’s eyes going so wide, so bright, but it couldn’t be much different from the way Hayato had always looked at him—soft, loving, completely captivated by him, faults and all. “I mean it. Don’t worry about me. Just worry about yourself, Tenth. Okay? That’s all I want. For you to take care of yourself. To be—safe. Happy.”</p>
<p>“<i>Why</i>.”</p>
<p>Forcing a shrug, Hayato said: “Does it matter?”</p>
<p>Tsuna scrunched up his nose, and Hayato couldn’t help a smile. But then Tsuna was muttering, “Maybe. I think it does. But I don’t know why, I don’t—I don’t know, I don’t <i>know</i>,” and it sounded so much like Hayato’s own internal loop of terror and exhaustion and fear and fucking awful heartbreak that he winced, squishing Tsuna’s cheeks a little more.</p>
<p>“What...what are you doing?”</p>
<p>Hayato could only stand there, squishing his boss’ cheeks like an idiot and <i>staring</i> at him, unwilling to look away. “You’re amazing,” Hayato murmured. “Even if you don’t get why I think that, trust that I do. Please.”</p>
<p>Tsuna went still again, staring back.</p>
<p>It felt like a moment that existed outside of time, something that went on forever. Slowly, Tsuna’s hands came up, fingers hooking loosely around Hayato’s wrists and—<i>oh</i>. Amazing how fickle the heart, how insidious <i>desire</i> could be, banked one moment and then blazing like a flash fire in the next, uncontrollable. Hayato made a soft, involuntary noise. Could feel his face heating up pink, and damn it, <i>damn it</i>, why did his complexion have to be so damn pale? He was so <i>obvious</i>.</p>
<p>Tsuna’s wide eyes went wider still at that noise, and then his fingers pressed harder against the vulnerable skin of Hayato’s inner wrists and this was bad again, suddenly horribly, awkwardly <i>bad</i>, fuck—Hayato should move away, run, stutter out some line about kicking the Ricci underlings’ collective asses or—or something—anything—</p>
<p>“Your eyes are...really, <i>really</i> green aren’t they?”</p>
<p>“Oh my <i>god</i>,” whispered Hayato. “You can’t say shit like that, Boss!”</p>
<p>Tsuna looked amused, even if he still also looked a bit bewildered. “No?” he asked, and something in the way his eyes glittered, the slant of his brows, made Hayato think of the Tenth with clear Sky Flames wreathing him, his Will indomitable, absolute.</p>
<p>“Not fair,” Hayato all but whimpered.</p>
<p>He felt caught, caged, fucking <i>known</i>, all the way down to his dirty, desperate desires. Which—impossible. Impossible because if that were so then Tsuna wouldn’t have a smug little quirk to his mouth, wouldn’t be holding Hayato’s wrists so tightly, and he <i>definitely</i> wouldn’t be leaning in and murmuring, “Why isn’t it fair, Gokudera? Tell me.”</p>
<p>Jesus <i>fuck</i>.</p>
<p>“I—I uh—”</p>
<p>The sound of the restaurant door swinging open saved him. Tsuna blinked, as if he was blinking awake, back to reality. Hayato couldn’t look away from him, so he saw the way Tsuna’s eyes nearly bugged out with horror, how he went bright red and sweaty and flung Hayato’s hands away like they might <i>burn</i> him. “Uh. Uh, uhm!”</p>
<p>Hayato...took in a deep breath. </p>
<p>Bundled up the hurt, the rejection, the battered heart that whined within him, and shoved it down deep. <i>That’s why it’s not fair</i>, he thought, but then he cast aside that way of thinking as well, because he hadn’t lied to the Tenth—the only thing that mattered was protecting Tsuna. </p>
<p>“Heeeeeey,” Yamamoto said, eyebrows up somewhere near his hairline, glancing curiously between the two of them. “Food’s ready, if you guys wanted to eat?”</p>
<p>Hayato breathed out.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said, looking away from Tsuna. Shoving his hands into his pockets, finding a squinty-eyed look to offer Yamamoto. “And then we’re figuring out how to protect the Tenth, and <i>you</i> are not going to say <i>anything</i> that isn’t one hundred perfect helpful, understand?”</p>
<p>Yamamoto laughed, holding the door open wider for them. “Yeah, sure, I can do that.”</p>
<p>Hayato scoffed, and then he forced himself to look back at the Tenth, made himself keep his face still, expression empty and peaceful and not at all reflecting the raging storm inside as he said, “Thanks for coming to check on me, Tenth. Promise I won’t be weird anymore.”</p>
<p>“O-oh,” Tsuna said. “Right. Uh, sure. I mean… You’re welcome?”</p>
<p>Hayato smiled a little, then he looked down and walked to the door, inside, trying so hard not to think about—about <i>anything</i>, absolutely nothing at all except for what he needed to do in order to protect his boss.<br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! i hope it turned out all right - some shit happened in the last couple days and so there are a few scenes in this i couldn't actually uhhh edit over like i wanted, hopefully i'll get the next chapter out in a week, but pls don't hurt me if it takes me closer to two lol</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’m fine, Tenth,” Hayato said, but he was smiling helplessly, gone soft and melting inside once again. Even though it was <i>Hayato’s</i> job to take care of Tsuna, it would be a filthy, blatant lie to say Hayato wasn’t enjoying having the boss fuss over him. He ripped into a bag of melon bread and shoved it into his mouth, trying not to let the smile get too big.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>firstly, because this is still wildly self-indulgent it is now four chapters long because i NEEDED to see tsuna coming around more, and secondly, PLS KEEP IN MIND that this is BAD bdsm etiquette because there ISN'T any etiquette in this at all because these idiots aren't even aware of what their kinks are, so: if that's going to trigger you then pls pls pls do not keep reading intrepid readers, &lt;3 stay safe!</p><p>i'm v sorry for how long this has taken! that shit that happened was shittier than expected and STILL shitty, also 85% of this ch is brand spanking new because the last scene of ch2 was a spur of the moment addition and CHANGED A WHOLE LOT XD;;; so i've had my work cut out for me lol. thank you so so so much for all the beautiful, extremely kind comments! i really didn't expect them and they are deeply appreciated, i'm so glad everyone has enjoyed this so far! here's hoping you continue to :')</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>The plan was simple: Vongola would attempt to draw the Ricci underlings out into the open by making them think Tsuna was alone and unaware, unguarded and unprepared for attack. It was the best choice, possibly the only choice that could give Vongola an edge, as CEDEF was still scrambling to find any intel at all that might help them better know their enemy. </p><p>Hayato <i>hated</i> the plan.</p><p>Despite what they were trying to make it look like, the reality was that Tsuna would be watched at all times, never without backup. Still, it felt to Hayato too much like offering Tsuna up for slaughter. What would be next, painting a target directly onto Tsuna’s back and hoping for the best? </p><p>“Ha,” said Tsuna. “I’ve felt like that since I was fourteen, Gokudera-kun. I don’t think it’d make any difference.”</p><p>Which was a horrible thing to hear, except that Yamamoto and Chrome just laughed because—because it <i>wasn’t</i> that big of a deal, was it? Or it shouldn’t be, of course, because Tsuna was a mafia boss and that meant having a target on him at all times, that he would always be at risk because that came with the job, the life, it was exactly what they’d all convinced Tsuna to <i>sign up for</i> and—and maybe Hayato would learn again how to thrill at that, to be lit up with excitement and purpose and pride rather than shaken with terror, like the sky was falling down around him.</p><p>But not yet.</p><p>Instead he shadowed Tsuna from afar, just as Chrome and Yamamoto did, the three guardians keeping to the trees while their boss scrambled across wreckage, sun-lit and exposed. Four hours of Tsuna making a show of exploring the mansion that had been nearly destroyed by the Inheritance Ceremony years before, now left to seed, all of them waiting to see if their enemy would appear.</p><p>Of course, while the likelihood of the Ricci underlings appearing the very same day they’d escaped custody was <i>technically</i> possible, it still didn’t seem likely—Chrome and Sasagawa had argued the point over the last of the sashimi, but Tsuna had ultimately insisted on leaving the restaurant and immediately getting out of town. </p><p>“Less danger to civilians that way,” he’d said, worry a wrinkle between his brows. “Just in case.”</p><p>Chrome smiled in response and Yamamoto threw an arm around Tsuna’s shoulders, squeezing tight. “Of course, boss,” was all Hayato managed, chest squeezing so hard with admiration and affection over the person Tsuna had become that it was a wonder he could still be breathing. Now, hours later as the sun stretched to meet the horizon, Hayato made his way from his perch toward Tsuna, listening as Yamamoto and Chrome made ever increasing circles of the perimeter, preparing to head back to Namimori.</p><p>“Tenth,” Hayato called out, “you ready?”</p><p>For a minute, maybe less, trees had broken Hayato’s line of sight on Tsuna. Barely any time at all. So it seemed unfair that those few seconds were still enough for Hayato to have the air knocked right out of his lungs. Completely unfair for Hayato to duck beneath a low-hanging branch, entirely unsuspecting, and straighten up into the sight of the Tenth atop a pile of broken stone and crumbling mortar, orange-limned and solemn and strikingly beautiful.</p><p>Hayato tripped to a stop, his heart stuttering in his chest.</p><p>“It seems like a waste, doesn’t it?” Tsuna asked, frowning down at the rubble beneath his sneakers. “Why didn’t anyone rebuild this after?”</p><p>“Does it matter?”</p><p>Tsuna’s thoughtful frown turned toward Hayato, those wide brown eyes gone dark in the fading light. “I don’t know. But it’s our fault that it’s in pieces, isn’t it?” </p><p>Hayato didn’t think so. What’s more, he hadn’t thought about this place even once since the last time they’d set foot in it. There had been plenty enough going on in their lives, after all, and what’s more— “We were children,” Hayato said, forcing his feet to move, his heart to calm inside his chest. He climbed up to stand beside Tsuna, to look out at the world from his boss’ vantage point. “What could we have done?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Tsuna muttered, sounding frustrated. “Just...it seems like a waste. That’s all.”</p><p>Hayato stared out at the trees, painfully aware of Tsuna’s elbow brushing against his. Too close, not close enough. He thought about Tsuna earlier, saying he’d felt targeted ever since he was fourteen. A child in fear of his life, thrown into a world he didn’t know, didn’t want. </p><p>Tsuna sighed. “Forget it. Chrome-chan, Yamamoto-kun? Everything good?”</p><p>All Hayato wanted was to protect his boss, to keep Tsuna safe. Not just his body, but Tsuna’s heart as well. Wanted him happy, content, unburdened by guilt and suffering. Hayato knew already that he couldn’t keep Tsuna completely safe from pain, but—</p><p>Maybe, just maybe, he could help.</p><p>“We’re not children any longer,” Hayato said, interrupting Yamamoto over the comms.</p><p>Half-way down the pile of debris, Tsuna turned to look up at Hayato. And suddenly Tsuna didn’t look anything near as impressive as he had only moments ago, a king atop a hill, some mysterious and untouchable enigma. He was just—Tsuna. Narrow shoulders hunched beneath a soft hoodie, tired shadows beneath bright eyes.</p><p>Still more than enough to steal Hayato’s breath.</p><p>“I...know that?”</p><p>Hayato shook his head and started down, meeting Tsuna on level ground before saying: “There wasn’t anything we could have done about this place before because we were children. But if you wanted—now you could.”</p><p>Even after all this time Hayato <i>still</i> wanted to squirm whenever Tsuna looked at him like that—curious, contemplative, <i>appreciative</i>—so he rummaged around for a smoke, for something to do with his fidgeting, anxious hands. “You’re Vongola Decimo. You have money. Power. You can do something now, even if you couldn’t back then.”</p><p>“...Huh,” said Tsuna. “You’re right.”</p><p>Cigarette lit, a cloud of smoke wreathed him just long enough for Hayato to calm down. When the wind cleared the air between them Hayato was smiling his usual smile. He nudged Tsuna’s shoulder with his own. “C’mon,” he said. “One crisis at a time, yeah? Let’s get you home, Boss.”</p>
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  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Once Sasagawa met up with them at the Sawada residence, Chrome and Yamamoto headed home. Hayato made a show of going home as well, but didn’t actually go farther than a block before circling back around. After all, even though Hayato had made a show of creating shifts and including himself in the rotation, there was no way in hell he was leaving the Tenth’s side until the Ricci threat had been dealt with. Having a secondary line of defense was, in Hayato’s estimation, a much, <i>much</i> better plan than the one that offered Tsuna up like a particularly tasty, choice meal—though of course Hayato knew better than to tell Tsuna what he was up to, because if Tsuna knew that Hayato was camping out like a vigilant gargoyle above his room, then—<p>“This is <i>not</i> happening,” Tsuna squawked the instant he spotted Hayato</p><p>“Aw hell,” Hayato muttered, peering over the edge of the roof in the gloomy light of early morning. Hayato’s whole plan hinged on Tsuna not noticing, because Tsuna <i>never</i> let Hayato get away with doing shit like this: over-the-top and overbearing. </p><p>Tsuna’s face twisted in a grimace. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep up there.”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Hayato said, which was the truth. </p><p>The truth did not make Tsuna happy, however, because the Tenth by this point knew most of Hayato’s tricks: “Oh god. Did you just...stay awake on top of my roof all night? I can’t <i>believe</i> you, Gokudera-kun, that’s—wait, hold on. Come down! The neighbors will see!”</p><p>There was nothing for it. Hayato made his way down to the yard below, where Sasagawa was stretching, looking bright-eyed and enthusiastic about his morning run. In contrast, Tsuna looked tired and grumpy, obviously disgruntled about being up so early. Hayato’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and brush at Tsuna’s bangs—not for any particular reason, but simply because looking at his boss with his face still sleep-creased made affection bloom warm and joyous behind Hayato’s sternum. </p><p>What he wanted was merely to be close, to touch simply for the sake of touching. Wanted permission; to be allowed that kind of liberty with Tsuna. </p><p>Wanted Tsuna to give him a sleepy smile in response, to turn his cheek easily into Hayato’s palm…</p><p>Shit. Being sleep-deprived was not conducive to keeping his emotions and stupid, selfish desires in check, was it? Deliberately, Hayato curled his fingers in tight against his palms. Found a smile that was hopefully more casual than besotted, and said: “Morning, boss.”</p><p>“Ohh, are you here for an extreme morning work out as well?!” Sasagawa asked, beginning to jog in place around them. </p><p>Hayato grimaced. “<i>Fuck</i> no.”</p><p>“Oh, my god,” Tsuna muttered, shaking his head. He reached out and snagged Hayato by the elbow, marching him away from Sasagawa, creating a semblance of privacy. Hayato did <i>not</i> vibrate—and if he did, it unfortunately had more to do with caffeine and sugar overload from the cans of coffee he’d drank to get him through the night, and less because of the warmth of Tsuna’s hand—though fine, yes, Hayato was a little too focused on that hand. To be honest, he was always a little too focused on Tsuna’s hands. Just...Tsuna had really, <i>really</i> great hands, okay, capable and kind and strong and—</p><p>Bad line of thought.</p><p>
  <i>Very bad.</i>
</p><p>“Wha—Boss,” Hayato warbled, very definitely vibrating in Tsuna’s grip. It was a struggle not to squirm, and of <i>course</i> Hayato was flushed and sweating already, damn it. This was embarrassing. <i>Ridiculous</i>. “Boss, c’mon, it’s fine!”</p><p>Tsuna glowered up at him. “Why’d you spend all night on the roof?!”</p><p>The Tenth was all earnestness, worry bright in his clear, wide eyes. Hayato stared down into that pained, concerned expression, and couldn’t resist melting a little. “You’re mine to protect,” Hayato offered up, once more helpless against the truth of it.</p><p>“You…” Tsuna’s words failed him, apparently. His earnest, worried expression was gone, fractured into surprise, confusion, something a little like acute embarrassment if the bright red filling his cheeks was anything to go by. “You’re <i>impossible</i>,” was what Tsuna eventually squeaked out. “Wow. Just—okay, fine. I know I can’t convince you to go home entirely, even though I <i>already have protection</i>, since you <i>set it up</i>. You may as well come in, Gokudera-kun. I can send Sasagawa-kun home and—”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“...No?” Tsuna echoed, startled by Hayato’s outburst. </p><p>To be fair, Hayato was a little startled by his outburst too. Obviously it defeated the purpose of Hayato being a second protector if he merely took Sasagawa’s place, but that wasn’t anything worth shouting over. Nothing that should have made his heart pound, his skin get tight. Instinct made him protest; immediate fear pricking along his spine.</p><p>Tsuna frowned, worried once more. “Gokudera-kun?”</p><p>“Fuck,” Hayato sighed, scrubbing at his face. “Sorry, it’s just…”</p><p>The answer came to him easily, once Hayato thought about it: Tsuna was his boss and thus Hayato’s to protect, but Tsuna wasn’t <i>his</i>. </p><p>There was about three feet of pavement between them, Hayato decided. A pale expanse of walkway surrounded by the green of a lawn, but the two of them stood rooted in place and it may as well have been a chasm between them, an endless stretch of void that was entirely insurmountable, something Hayato couldn’t even begin to fathom how to step across, because what he wanted wasn’t anything he could ever reach: Tsuna’s heart wasn’t his to claim.</p><p>Being that close to Tsuna was dangerous—yesterday outside of Yamamoto’s had proven that. Hayato hurt just thinking about it, like a raw wound exposed to air, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. There wasn’t anything to do about it, however, so Hayato dropped his hands and found a smile, a casual tone. “Don’t worry about me, Tenth. I’d rather be up on the roof, I’ll have a better vantage. Besides, it’s better not to have all our defenses in one place. So don’t send Sasagawa home.”</p><p>“What the… C’mon, Gokudera-kun, you can’t just stay up on the roof. That’s ridiculous!”</p><p>“It’s your life,” Hayato said. “There's nothing more important.”</p><p>Tsuna sucked in a breath through his teeth, expression mutinous.</p><p>And suddenly, Hayato <i>could</i> cross some of that distance between them. He did it without thinking, without better judgement, stepping forward into Tsuna’s space, leaning in with a hand on Tsuna’s shoulder. Tsuna’s eyes went wide, and maybe his boss had more he’d planned to say, but Hayato hadn’t lied—there was nothing more important than Tsuna’s safety, and the sooner he accepted Hayato’s plan the better. </p><p>So Hayato said, “Tenth. Don’t argue with me on this one. You won’t win,” and then found the strength to let go, to walk away from Tsuna, onto the grass and around to the side of the house, where he knew it was easiest to clamber up.</p>
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</div>Thankfully, Tsuna didn’t protest further. He went on his run with Sasagawa, meeting up with Yamamoto near the station. Hayato followed at a distance, keeping to rooftops when he was able. It actually provided a little nostalgic amusement, remembering Shitt P! and how he once shadowed her.<p>When the three of them left Namimori proper, Tsuna huffing and groaning but still managing to keep pace with the two athletes even on the more rural trails, Hayato went home to shower and change his clothes, but immediately wound up collapsed on his bed for a few moments. He was so, <i>so</i> tired. Only it made him itch to lay there, knowing the Tenth was out of sight and in danger, and even those few moments felt like too much an indulgence. Groaning, he got up again before he could fall asleep, tripped on one of his shameful boxes full of perverted purchases, and—</p><p>He stopped.</p><p>Stood there in the middle of his bedroom staring at the discreet shipping label and the nondescript cardboard box. What was that story again? The myth with the girl and the box full of all the horrors in the world. That damned box full of sex toys felt like it contained all of Hayato’s worst fears, the horrible truth of what he yearned for, and Hayato had never understood how the girl could be so stupid as to open the box, <i>so stupid</i>.</p><p>He wanted so badly to open the box.</p><p>Hope was insidious, Hayato thought, and perhaps the most atrocious of all the horrors unleashed.</p><p>He didn’t open the box, but when he showered Hayato didn’t even try to fight it, only closed his eyes and took his cock in hand and imagined all the ways he wanted Tsuna to look at him, all the things he wished Tsuna might <i>do</i> to him if given the chance, the opportunity, if Tsuna were the one to open that box as if it held treasures, full of wonder for them both to explore.</p><p>It was stupid, so stupid, but Hayato couldn’t bring himself to care.</p>
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</div>Yamamoto and Sasagawa only kept Tsuna company through the earlier part of the morning. By the time they brought the Tenth back home, Tsuna was drenched in sweat and complaining that if the Ricci underlings chose to attack now, Tsuna would just lay down and give up because he felt like an overcooked noodle. “You stink so bad they’ll be the ones giving up, soon as they get a whiff of you,” Yamamoto teased. It was true though, Tsuna smelled so bad that Hayato was wrinkling his nose all the way up on the roof.<p>“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Tsuna muttered, waving his Rain Guardian away. Then he squinted up, directly at Hayato. “Huh. You look better. Did you take a shower?” </p><p>It was unfortunate how that innocent question brought immediate heat to Hayato’s cheeks and a stutter to his tongue. “Uh. Uh yeah, I sure did, boss! Nice uh, nice shower. Great shower! Super duper awesome shower!”</p><p>Possibly Hayato should have thrown himself off the roof.</p><p>“Cool,” said Tsuna, “My turn I guess. You guys want to wait in my room until Chrome gets here?”</p><p>Sasagawa and Yamamoto agreed, and the three of them trooped into the house and out of sight. Hayato sighed out all in one deflated gesture, trying not to think about the way Yamamoto’s face had gone red from holding in laughter at Hayato’s expense, or how even Sasagawa had seemed to be wincing by the time Hayato got to <i>super duper awesome</i>. Fucking fuck, but Hayato was an idiot and an embarrassment and absolutely going to be spending the next however long trying very, very hard not to think about Tsuna in the shower, all wet and naked and—and yeah, no, not thinking about it.</p><p>Thank fuck he’d already jerked off.</p><p>Somehow, Hayato managed to keep his shit together long enough for Chrome to take up her shift as Tsuna’s bodyguard for the day. Hayato settled into a semi-comfortable position on the roof, ready for a boring day of waiting around. But only a few hours later Tsuna appeared on the roof with a tube of sunscreen, a belligerent expression, and something to eat and drink. “You need a hat,” he grumbled, crouched down next to Hayato and squinting out into the bright sky.</p><p>“I’m fine, Tenth,” Hayato said, but he was smiling helplessly, gone soft and melting inside once again. Even though it was <i>Hayato’s</i> job to take care of Tsuna, it would be a filthy, blatant lie to say Hayato wasn’t enjoying having the boss fuss over him. He ripped into a bag of melon bread and shoved it into his mouth, trying not to let the smile get too big.</p><p>“Use the sunscreen,” Tsuna muttered. “The only thing worse than you being up here is you up here and red like a lobster, okay? You burned that time we went to the beach, so—”</p><p>“I’ll use it, Tenth,” Hayato told him.</p><p>“Ugh,” Tsuna groaned, tugging at his hair with both hands. “Why do you sound so <i>happy</i> about this?”</p><p>Hayato only shrugged and ate more bread, because there was no easy way to say <i>You really shouldn’t worry about me, but I love that you do. I love every moment you fuss over me and act like I matter, like you care. My heart feels full to bursting at the fact that you remember that I get sunburnt easily because that happened once, three years ago, and I didn’t think you were paying attention, but you were, and—and I want it, I want that attention all the time, I want you to know me and—</i></p><p>Stupid and dangerous and utterly impossible.</p><p>Except: Tsuna returned again and again, more often than Hayato had expected considering how much Tsuna bitched about what it might look like if any of his neighbors were to see any of them being <i>weird</i>. Hayato camping out on the roof—because it was definitely looking more like a campsite than anything at this point—was definitely weird. But Tsuna kept coming out with more food and plenty of drinks and a hat after all, grumbling and fussing every time about how unbelievable and ridiculous Hayato was being, and yet...he didn’t try to force Hayato away. </p><p>“I’m surprised,” Hayato admitted that night, though he hadn’t meant to. It just—it meant something to Hayato that Tsuna was being so accepting, and it was <i>absolutely</i> driving Hayato to distraction. “Usually you get mad at me for doing stuff like this.” </p><p>It was dark out, nearly midnight. A few stars could be seen, light pollution and clouds keeping most of the heavens shrouded and empty. Tsuna was sprawled out on the roof next to him, the both of them staring up at the same dull sky. </p><p>“I am mad,” Tsuna said. “Er, kinda.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hayato breathed, because yeah, yeah okay. That made sense.</p><p>Tsuna sighed, stretching out a little more comfortably. Inside the house, asleep on the spare futon in Tsuna’s room, Chrome was snoring away. He said, “I think I’m frustrated, mostly. Because whenever you do something like this, I...I don’t know. I feel like it’s my fault? Or as if there should be something I can do to...to make it better, or at least equal. But I can never figure out what, and you—you just keep doing things like camping out on a roof, you know? You give <i>so much</i>, you do all of this like it’s nothing! You should be at home in your own bed, eating actual food and living your life, but instead—”</p><p>“Tenth,” said Hayato. </p><p>“—instead you’re <i>here</i>, and it’s...it’s all because of me.”</p><p>Slowly, Hayato stretched out in a mirror of Tsuna, a few spare tiles between their arms, nearly close enough to touch. He wasn’t certain why, or why he wasn’t protesting and shouting and doing everything he could to make Tsuna stop talking like this, except...except Tsuna didn’t seem angry or bitter. He just sounded thoughtful, a little confused, and... </p><p>Full of wonder, maybe. Something almost aching couched in his words.</p><p>It wasn’t how Hayato was used to hearing himself described, was the thing. It would have been too much to endure if it weren’t for the fact that there was something so quiet about this moment, so intimate and personal, that it had spun a web around Hayato to still his frantic heart, his troublesome fears.</p><p>“It’s not because of,” Hayato said. “It’s...it’s <i>for</i> you.”</p><p>Tsuna made a noise, bristling and hurt and lodged deep in his chest. “Is there a difference?”</p><p>There was, but Hayato didn’t know how to quantify it in a way Tsuna might understand, not without giving away all his secrets. Hayato allowed his head to roll to the side, to look at something far more vital and beautiful than the night sky: Tsuna’s profile, brow furrowed and lower lip sucked in, likely being bitten. </p><p>“Yes,” was all Hayato knew to say. “I think so. Sorry.”</p><p>Tsuna’s eyebrows twitched at the apology, and Hayato charted the way his lashes moved in a swift, fierce blink. His boss asked, “Do you ever hate me for putting you in these situations?”</p><p>“No,” said Hayato. “Never.”</p><p>“But what if…”</p><p>Tsuna trailed off, and Hayato focused solely on existing, watching him, waiting.</p><p>“What if...what if I like it?” Tsuna sucked in a sudden, startled breath, as if he hadn’t meant to admit that. Hayato could feel the sudden tension rising off of him, the way the Tenth went so still and stiff and worried. </p><p>Hayato frowned at him, though Tsuna wasn’t looking. “Like what?”</p><p>The breath left Tsuna in a harsh, heavy exhale, and all at once the Tenth turned his head to face Hayato. Wide eyes and anxious face, his mouth so soft and wet, Tsuna looked—looked <i>anguished</i>, looked small and fragile and as if Hayato could shatter him, could wound him so deep and dangerous that he may never recover, which was—was <i>impossible</i>, wasn’t it? The very idea Hayato might have that power over him was impossible and terrifying and—and—</p><p>“You worrying about me,” Tsuna whispered. “You going above and beyond to take care of me, to keep me safe...it doesn’t bother me anymore. I don’t hate it. I—I like it. That you care so much. That I’m so important to you. I want—”</p><p>Hayato didn’t dare breathe.</p><p>“—I don’t know,” Tsuna said, a little brokenly. “I just...I don’t know...”</p><p>That was more than Hayato expected, and the dizzying swoop of hope that had filled him at those words—<i>I want</i>—refused to calm, to cease, utterly greedy in its hunger. Terrifying and impossible and yet, <i>and yet</i>—Hayato loved it. But Tsuna still looked as if Hayato had the power to <i>hurt</i> him, as if what Hayato had to say in response might matter—might <i>really matter</i>—and Hayato loved him too much to enjoy it, to feel anything other than aching protectiveness at the vulnerability in Tsuna’s eyes, so he told Tsuna as steadily as he could: “I still don’t hate you.”</p><p>Tsuna made another noise, less unhappy this time. Smaller, stilted, a little wet. “Are you sure?” he rasped, shifting closer, restless, and Hayato wanted so badly to look and see if that was Tsuna’s hand reaching for him, but—he kept his gaze on Tsuna’s, refusing to look away.</p><p>“I’ll tell you as many times as you need, Tenth. You’re the most important thing to me. Nothing could ever change that. <i>Nothing</i>.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Tsuna, and then there were fingers brushing gently at Hayato’s bangs, sweeping a strand of loose hair up and behind his ear. “That...that’s good. I’m—I’m glad. I thought I was all sorts of fucked up.”</p><p>Hayato couldn’t help a huff of laughter, even as he tried not to shiver or <i>lose his goddamn mind</i> at the soft touch of Tsuna’s fingertips grazing against his skin, so light Hayato wasn’t entirely convinced it was actually happening at all. “<i>I’m</i> glad. I thought...I was afraid I was getting out of line, or something.”</p><p>A crooked grin. “You <i>have</i> been yelling at me a lot lately.”</p><p>Hayato winced.</p><p>“That’s been making me happy, too, weirdly enough,” Tsuna admitted.</p><p>And just what was he meant to do with that? Hayato didn’t know, though he did his best to remind himself that surely Tsuna would change his mind if he understood where Hayato’s fears were coming from, the core of Hayato’s heart so full of love and longing and desire. Tried to batter down the hope, the greed, the buzzing butterflies, but—there was Tsuna, so close and near, and those were his fingers tangling sweetly in Hayato’s hair...</p><p>“If you keep doing that,” Hayato mumbled, “I’ll fall asleep.”</p><p>Tsuna smiled. “That’s fine. You need the rest.”</p>
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</div>Around four in the morning Hayato woke up. He felt like he was still dreaming, though, because the Tenth was asleep next to him, head on Hayato’s shoulder.<p><i>So</i> close.</p><p>Hayato stayed still, purely on instinct. An amazing accomplishment, because Hayato wanted to jump out of his <i>skin</i>, entirely uncertain what to do, how to deal. He could feel Tsuna’s breath on his skin, the warmth of his body pressed tight against Hayato’s side. </p><p>How was Hayato meant to survive the Tenth <i>doing shit like this?</i></p><p>He wasn’t, obviously.</p><p>Tsuna was going to kill him. </p><p>Hours later, as the sun edged up over the horizon, Hayato was still awake. When he felt Tsuna stir, disturbed by the change in light, Hayato closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, waiting, waiting, waiting for disgust or dismay at the way they were tangled up, for Tsuna to make excuses about how he never meant to be so close, or to wake Hayato up and demand to know what he was trying, what his motives, why—</p><p>“Ah, good,” Tsuna yawned, voice bleary. “He slept through the night.”</p><p>A tickling touch at Hayato’s temple.</p><p>The feeling of hair moving beneath a barely-there caress, a tender touch—could friends touch like that? Family? What was Tsuna thinking, where was his heart when his hands did such devastating things? Did he want—</p><p>Stop.</p><p>Don’t think about it.</p><p>Hayato kept his eyes closed, pretending, until Tsuna went back inside.</p>
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</div>There wasn’t time to dwell on it, at least. That day’s plan had Tsuna walking along the river right after breakfast, the arrival of the weekend allowing for a more concerted effort to lure their enemies out. There was no sight of the Ricci underlings by late afternoon, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t on their way. Hayato was exhausted, worn out and emptied from the chaotic rise and fall of his emotions. It was a relief, really, to be on a mission where he couldn’t risk saying something stupid to Tsuna.<p>That said, Hayato <i>still</i> hated this plan.</p><p>“I’m tired of walking,” Tsuna groaned into his headset. “I think I’m gonna sit down on the grass for a bit. Mm, nap. I could take a nap?”</p><p>“Don’t nap,” Hayato said immediately. </p><p>“But I’m <i>tired</i>. And bored! I’ve been walking all day on this same stupid—”</p><p>“What if you fall asleep next to an ant bed?” Chrome asked, neatly cutting off Tsuna’s whining. Which was appreciated, because Hayato was struggling, his throat tight and swollen with all the words he’d been trying not to say, certain that, despite what the Tenth had said the night before, they would be <i>too much</i>. Too familiar, too presumptuous, too obvious. But the idea of the Tenth being prone on the ground without anyone at his side made his skin fucking crawl. </p><p>“Euuugh. Damn! Knowing my luck they’d eat me alive.” Tsuna sighed and resumed walking. “Thanks, Chrome.”</p><p>“Any time, Boss!”</p><p>Hayato frowned, glaring out at the water suspiciously. He was tailing Tsuna, while Chrome hid in illusions ahead of them, scouting around. Yamamoto and Sasagawa were both in the city, but nearby and also listening in. If Hayato had his way, then they would all be a roving circle around the Tenth, a tight enough formation that no one could slip through. All that empty space surrounding Tsuna, making him open and vulnerable—it was building beneath Hayato’s skin, a fear-induced agitation he couldn’t shake. </p><p>And it didn’t help, of course, that Hayato couldn’t stay focused. It was so fucked up: the boss was out here, offering himself up as bait, and Hayato couldn’t keep his stupid, dumb brain from wandering. He kept thinking about the box in his room and all that BL manga he never got around to reading; thought about the shitty odds for a happily ever after he’d calculated, and most of all he kept thinking about how fucking <i>confusing</i> Tsuna’s recent actions and revelations were, and how greedy his own heart that it would leap again and again at the slightest <i>hint</i> that Tsuna might care, might <i>want</i> him—</p><p>God, fuck. There he went again.</p><p>Clearing his throat, Hayato tried to refocus himself. “This would be so much better if we had a base, like the Vongola from the other timeline.”</p><p>“Hm. You think?”</p><p>Sasagawa chimed in, sounding like he was in the middle of eating a burger, damn him. “Wouldn’t we just be uh, be trapped? Like if they surround us or something.”</p><p>“Home field advantage,” Yamamoto murmured.</p><p>“Exactly,” Hayato said, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “We wouldn’t have to worry about being trapped if we had a stronghold, well stocked and armored, where we controlled the <i>hidden exits</i>. We should—”</p><p>“Guys,” interrupted Tsuna. His voice was quiet, firm—the tone of Vongola Tenth. “They’re here.”</p><p>Hayato dropped his hands immediately, heart beating faster, skin prickling like his body was waking up. Shit, but this was—the worst possible timing, probably. Hayato should have thought this whole plan over better, because it was nearing evening and they’d all been out and on alert for <i>hours</i>. They weren’t at their best, couldn’t be, but Tsuna had insisted on staying out of populated areas, and Hayato was an idiot, a god damned <i>fool</i> for not getting more sleep, for being so distracted and for allowing Tsuna his penchant toward martyrdom. </p><p>“Where?” asked Chrome. “I can’t spot the illusion. Are they—”</p><p>“No illusion,” said Tsuna, head tipped back. Hayato was too far away to pick up details, but he could see Tsuna’s posture: hands casual at his sides, legs braced gently as he looked skyward, unassuming, and yet ready to take on anything. Hayato followed his gaze, up and up until he saw a speck of sparkling green amidst the pale puffs of clouds, getting steadily larger.</p><p>“Is that a Box Animal?” he asked, surprised. “They didn’t have that last time! What the shit?!”</p><p>“They were helped in their escape,” Yamamoto’s voice in their ears, sounding curious. He also sounded like he was running toward them, which was good. Hayato was already halfway to Tsuna, traveling at a light jog while he kept his gaze up, watching. Lightning crackled. “And they already had strange boxes, ones we’ve never seen. Maybe they got more help than we realized?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” garbled Sasagawa, mouth still full, apparently, even while on the move. “We’re still going to kick their butts!”</p><p>Because he couldn’t help himself, Hayato looked to Tsuna. He was close enough now to see the hint of a smile on Tsuna’s face. The boss looked calm, almost peaceful. But Hayato had spent years watching him by now, covetous and jealous and needful. Beneath that placid surface was a growing sadness, a resignation that Hayato hated more than anything. “Tenth—” he started to say.</p><p>“Leave the Mist User,” Tsuna told them all. “Hibari is near. He’ll take care of that one if we leave him be.”</p><p>“He is?”</p><p>“Mm. He’s been waiting,” Tsuna confirmed.</p><p>Maybe he’d texted Tsuna back, or Kusakabe had. More likely, Tsuna had sensed him and simply knew his Cloud Guardian well enough to know how he’d act, who he’d choose to fight, what would make him more willing to assist. Clever, capable, competent—Tsuna may not be aware of his own brilliance, but Hayato knew exactly how lucky he was to belong to Vongola Tenth. Hayato stared helplessly at Tsuna, wanting so desperately to kiss him. </p><p>But he only said: “Don’t let yourself get hurt.”</p><p>There was still too much space between them, but Hayato knew better than to limit Tsuna’s mobility. He hung back, and he watched as Tsuna blinked, as if surprised. This was the way his battle-sense came on him, sometimes. Seeming dream-like, strange—Tsuna without any of the frazzled edges he usually had. As always, it was almost too much to have Tsuna’s eyes on him, but Hayato held firm, scowling at his boss. </p><p>Tsuna said, “I’ll try not to, Gokudera. I don’t want you to cry again.”</p><p>The absolute silence over the comms in response to that was painful to hear. Hayato winced, but even with his face flaming hot at the reminder, he said: “I’m not kidding, Tenth. They’ve already hurt you—hurt <i>us</i>. You can’t reason with them. They’ve been beaten but they’re back, probably even stronger than before. They’re—they’re berserkers! They won’t stop until they’re <i>forced</i> to stop, and what they want is to <i>kill you</i> so don’t give them the chance, don’t—”</p><p>Tsuna frowned. “Gokudera,” he interrupted. “I told you I’d try. Don’t you trust me?”</p><p>“With everything,” Hayato replied, instinctive and sure. “Except for when it comes to your own well-being, Tenth. That’s the one thing I <i>don’t</i> trust you with.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“I hate to break this up,” said Yamamoto, sounding amused. “Because I’m actually really, <i>really</i> enjoying this, but uh—I think you’re about to have company, Tsuna.”</p><p>“Thanks, Yamamoto,” said Tsuna, still staring at Hayato, eyes boring in. </p><p>Hayato nearly buckled beneath the weight of it, too intense by half. This was—<i>more</i>, more than usual, more than normal. This was Tsuna as if he wanted to pry Hayato apart and lay claim to every piece of him. It made Hayato itch, made him want to fidget and look away, bow his head and—and <i>something</i>—because the power in Tsuna’s eyes was enough to leave him breathless, leave him shaking. But instead Hayato grit his teeth and clenched his hands so tightly his skin pinched against his rings, nearly vibrating beneath the strain. </p><p>Tsuna asked, “What did you call them, again?”</p><p>“I...what?”</p><p>“When you were describing them,” said Tsuna, a little more urgently. “What was it—berserkers?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Hm,” said Tsuna, and looked away. Hayato tried not to stagger with the loss of Tsuna’s attention, feeling startled and strangely bereft. His boss said, “I’m going to try something. You won’t like it, Gokudera, but I need you to stay out of it, okay? Get everyone else and take care of the Lightning User, all right? I have Mia.”</p><p>“Boss…” </p><p>“Gokudera,” Tsuna murmured, “Do as I say.”</p><p>It was dumb. It was so dumb, but Hayato said, “I’ll follow any order you give me, but I’m not going to let you get killed, boss. Be <i>careful</i>.”</p><p>Tsuna’s only response was a slight upward tick of his mouth, almost a smile, before his will exploded into existence, a hot, forceful gust that had Hayato struggling not to squeeze his eyes shut. Their enemies were on them, it seemed, and Hayato hadn’t been paying attention, too distracted by Tsuna. Now, lightning was streaking down toward them, close enough to reach the ground right where Tsuna was—</p><p>No, right where Tsuna <i>wasn’t</i>. </p><p>Hayato yelped at the feel of familiar hands on him, one grasping his thigh to hitch it around Tsuna’s waist, the other flat against his back between his shoulder blades to keep him close. “Any order?” Tsuna murmured, voice almost too soft to hear. “Then hold on tight, Gokudera.”</p><p>With a raw noise trapped at the base of his throat, Hayato clenched his hands in Tsuna’s shirt, tightened his leg around Tsuna’s hip, and clung on while Tsuna moved them out of harm’s way. The lightning struck, a concussive force of pure heat, but Hayato was safe, safe and laid out with gentle ease on the ground beneath Tsuna. “Boss,” Hayato rasped, grass cool against his back. He blinked rapidly, thinking vaguely: <i>fuck god damn it, that was way too sexy</i>.</p><p>Tsuna smirked down at him, crouched now between Hayato’s thighs. “Behave yourself,” his boss said. “And do what I told you.”</p><p>“I’d like nothing more,” Hayato gasped out, pumped full of adrenaline and surprise and all out of sorts. Then he flushed violently red as he realized what he’d said. Stupid, <i>stupid</i>, he was so fucking obvious—but what else was he meant to do when Tsuna said shit like that? He squirmed a little on the ground in a half-hearted attempt to escape, embarrassed and shamefully turned on. </p><p>Tsuna pressed a hand against his shoulder and pinned him still. “Gokudera,” he murmured, eyes dark beneath the haze of orange fire.</p><p>Tellingly, Hayato shivered beneath him.</p><p>From back where they’d left the others behind, a cracking boom sounded. Sasagawa’s voice erupted into his ear, reminding Hayato all at once that the rest of the Guardians had <i>heard all of that exchange</i>. “And that would be Hibari,” Sasagawa said. “Guy really knows how to make an entrance, huh?”</p><p>Yamamoto laughed, adding, “Sure does! Well, then, guess it’s time to get to work. Gokudera, you ready? Tsuna’s got a plan, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Hayato murmured, voice gone rough with need.</p><p><i>Damn it</i>, he wished he could go back in time, to when Hayato hadn’t been aware of exactly what he meant when he was saying these things to the Tenth. There was no fucking way no one noticed, and no wonder Yamamoto knew when to take him out to mixers if this was how obvious Hayato was, how utterly transparent. This was terrible. This was the <i>worst</i>. His boss was crouched over him, kneeling between his thighs with one strong gauntleted hand pressing him down, <i>pinning him</i>, and all Hayato wanted was to sink into it, to go boneless and willing and let Tsuna do whatever he wanted—except what his boss actually wanted probably had nothing to do with fucking Hayato senseless and if Hayato didn’t get his shit together <i>right the fuck now</i> then all his determination to hide his desires from Tsuna would be for nothing. </p><p>Still, Hayato’s head tipped back before he could quite stop himself, vision a little hazy as heat pumped through him, tightening his pants as his dick plumped up, well and truly interested. </p><p>The fact that Tsuna stayed close, never looking away, wasn’t helping at <i>all</i>. </p><p>“Boss,” Hayato rasped out, tipping his chin up higher. He just— He didn’t even know what he was doing, not really, but his body was reacting and his brain was so <i>quiet</i>, it felt like giving in and opening up, like an offering of himself, and he—he <i>wanted</i> that, wanted anything and everything and <i>Tsuna</i> most of all. “<i>Boss</i>, I—”</p><p>“Hush,” Tsuna murmured.</p><p>Hayato fucking <i>shivered again</i>.</p><p>Tsuna smirked at him in response, a lazier curl to his mouth than usual. Jesus, but Hayato had to fight hard not to groan, thighs twitching where his knees wanted to bend and spread, and what—<i>what</i>—he had never felt quite like this before, all lit up and soft and given over, <i>never</i>, but it felt right, and good, and <i>perfect</i>, and he <i>needed</i>—</p><p>“Good,” Tsuna murmured. “Well done. You up for this?”</p><p>“I…”</p><p>His tongue felt clumsy and too thick, brain sluggish. But Tsuna still needed him, so Hayato took in a deep breath as Tsuna leaned back, releasing him carefully. “Yeah,” Hayato said, shaking his head. “Yeah, boss. I’m—I’m good.”</p><p>He wasn’t, not really. Except that they were Vongola and there were <i>enemies</i> here. Hayato had to be okay. Luckily, Tsuna took him at his word, his boss standing up and turning away, shoulders squaring. Hayato had to bite his tongue hard enough to taste blood to keep in the pathetic noise that tried to squeeze out his throat at the sudden distance, but he managed it.</p><p>“Careful, everyone,” Tsuna said into their headsets. “We don’t know what other new tricks they have up their sleeves. Don’t make any assumptions.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Boss,” said Chrome.</p><p>And then Tsuna was running toward the fight, leaping into the air, soft flame sending out gentle waves of heat, to meet a crackling Lightning bird that still held the Lightning and Sun users. He called out, “Couldn’t stay away?”</p><p>“We weren’t done with you yet,” Mia responded, something hard and manic in her tone, nothing like the still and steady softness of before. “We won’t ever be done, not until you’re dead!”</p><p>Tsuna shrugged. “Come at me, then.”</p><p>Groaning, Hayato forced himself up, forced himself to ignore his trembling body and jangling nerves, and barked at the other Guardians, “You heard the Tenth—we’ve got Luca. Leave Mia to him, and let Hibari handle the Mist User. How are we going to separate them?”</p><p>“Shouldn’t be much of a problem,” answered Yamamoto, as Mia leaped from the back of the Box Animal, wielding a sword nearly as tall as herself that gleamed with Sun Flames. Tsuna caught the edge, grunting soft over the headset, and then flung her over a hundred meters away. Without pause he flew after, trusting his Guardians to see his orders obeyed, not bothering to watch his back.</p><p>“Well then,” said Hayato, and opened his Vongola Box. “Let’s get this over with. The boss is counting on us.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me!” Yamamoto said, cheerful as ever. “Though if you don’t hurry, there won’t be anything left for you to—oh, shit! He’s <i>fast</i>. Never mind, might be something for you to do after all!”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed &lt;3</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><i>I can handle the pain</i>, he decided. <i>I can, I can, I can—for you, I can do anything.</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>VICTORYYYYY</p><p>also trigger warnings for blood, panic, shock, sex, and more panic! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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Hayato’s expertise wasn’t just explosives, but spatial awareness; knowing trajectories and geometry and exactly how much time he needed to get a stick of dynamite from his hand to his enemy, ready to explode. He was also good at knowing precisely where his boss was during a fight at all times, as well as the rest of the guardians, because that was his fucking <i>job</i> as Tsuna’s right hand.</p><p>Basically: Hayato was the eye at the center of the storm, aware of everything.</p><p>So he saw it when Tsuna got hit badly enough to make his boss bleed. He saw it and he hated it and he kept on doing what his boss told him, yelling at Sasagawa to <i>wait</i> god damn it, so that Yamamoto had a chance to set up an attack. And then he noticed it when Tsuna got hit again and <i>again</i>, as well as how Tsuna was blocking but not dodging, not even <i>trying</i> to dodge, just letting Mia pummel him over and over and—</p><p>“Boss,” Hayato grit out, knowing the headset would pick it up. “The fuck are you doing?”</p><p>“I’m—”</p><p>Mia landed a blow strong enough to knock Tsuna down to the ground, a comet that shook the earth on impact. </p><p>For a moment, Hayato couldn’t even draw breath, couldn’t think and didn’t know what to feel, shocked to his core by the sudden brutality of it. Panic held him paralyzed, fear and fury making him weak—but in the next moment he was Gokudera Hayato, Vongola Storm Guardian again, skidding to his knees next to Tsuna as an excess of dynamite caused Mia to jerk and change trajectory before she could follow Tsuna down, trying to finish him. </p><p>“<i>Boss!</i>”</p><p>“I’ll distract Mia,” Chrome said grimly. “Make sure the Boss is all right.”</p><p>The reprieve wouldn’t last long, Hayato knew, but hopefuly long enough for him to make sure his boss was all right, to make certain that Tsuna was still fucking <i>breathing</i>. Hayato’s hands hovered over Tsuna, uncertain where to touch, wanting to cling. “Boss,” he choked out. “Boss, are you—Tenth, please, hey—”</p><p>Tsuna coughed. “Ow.” </p><p>Thank <i>fuck</i>, Tsuna was breathing and moving and not down for the count. Hayato shuddered hard all over, breathing in raggedly, and said without thinking: “You asked me to <i>trust</i> you, Tenth, and I do—<i>I do</i>. But what the <i>fuck</i>.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Tsuna whispered, tight and strained. “It’s fine.”</p><p>“That wasn’t fine, Tsuna,” Yamamoto’s voice said into their headsets, sounding winded. “There’s no way she was moving fast enough to hit you that hard. You’ve been taking every blow. Why?”</p><p>Groaning, Tsuna pushed himself up into a crouch, wiping a grimy hand across his bleeding forehead. Hayato’s fingers curled into fists so that they couldn’t betray him, shaking and trembling and greedy, instruments of need that wanted nothing more than to grasp tight and hold on, to pull Tsuna into the safety of Hayato’s own body as if that might offer some protection. It wouldn’t, of course, but the desire wouldn’t dwindle; only grew.</p><p>Tsuna said, “There’s something weird about their flames. I think... I had a hunch, I’m checking it out.”</p><p>“You’re letting yourself get hurt <i>deliberately</i>.”</p><p>Tsuna grimaced, and—he was refusing to look at Hayato, as if he knew how much it was killing his Storm Guardian to reconcile this fact, that Tsuna would deliberately take damage, would purposely allow his skin to bloom with bruises, to split and bleed. Tsuna said, “Part of the job, isn’t it?”</p><p>Hayato wanted to scream. “<i>No</i>, not— Boss, please. You can’t—”</p><p>“I have to,” Tsuna said, tone gentle. He reached up a hand and brushed his thumb gently over Hayato’s cheek, looking thoughtful. “I’m sorry,” he said, even gentler. “I’m sorry I have to break my promise to you. I wish there was a better way.”</p><p>How had it all come to this?</p><p>Hayato wasn’t certain. The road seemed strange and winding and meaningless. Here was Vongola Tenth, the kind of boss that Hayato had always dreamed of serving—here was Tsuna, the young man Hayato hadn’t meant to fall in love with, with his bright, apologetic eyes, blood-smeared and battered and <i>still</i> so steady and certain. Somewhere along the way Hayato’s dreams and nightmares had tangled together and now here he was, <i>living it</i>.</p><p>It wasn’t fair. </p><p>It wasn’t fair at all that Hayato could feel this way, could hurt without a mark on him—that each of Tsuna’s wounds were like a gash across his own heart. But it also wasn’t fair to make Tsuna less than what he was, and Hayato—</p><p>Well, he didn’t want to let Tsuna down. </p><p><i>I can handle the pain</i>, he decided. <i>I can, I can, I can—for you, I can do anything.</i></p><p>For a while there, he hadn’t really been certain. Everything had been <i>so much</i> for Hayato recently, so big and so full, all those emotions, the fear and the worry, the way love spilled out of him, impossible to repress, to conceal, to deny. He had tried. Fuck, but he had <i>tried</i>, and all the while Hayato had been so damned scared of failing, of losing Tsuna, his trust and his regard and his friendship and—and the thing of it was that Hayato, in this singular moment, wasn’t any less scared, not really. But he’d told Tsuna that he would trust him, and—what else could Hayato do? Nothing, nothing at all except learn how to survive the terror, to let the poison of it seep out of him one way or another, by yelling or fucking or—</p><p>Hayato turned his head, kissing the base of Tsuna’s thumb. “Don’t apologize.”</p><p>—or by showing Tsuna how he really felt.</p><p>At the kiss, Tsuna drew in a startled, quiet breath. Hayato didn’t move; all around them the Vongola Guardians kept the Ricci underlings at bay, and it was the stupidest fucking thing to be having a <i>moment</i> in the midst of battle, but— “Oh,” Tsuna gasped. </p><p>Hayato closed his eyes, waiting for what would happen next.</p><p>Tsuna’s hand flexed, fingers curling in closer. Just enough to brush against Hayato’s jaw, his ear; just enough for Hayato to feel the heat of Tsuna’s palm. Hayato was helpless to do anything save lean into the touch, to press his cheek there as if it <i>belonged</i>, cupped in his boss’ hand like something precious, someone cherished. And he couldn’t keep back a wounded sound made low in his throat, raw and wanting. Somehow, it was the noise that had him flushing in shame, in fear, in <i>relief</i>, because while Tsuna didn’t say anything else he didn’t flinch or move away, didn’t reject Hayato and his longing. It gave Hayato the strength to choke out: “I just… Please be careful, Tenth. I can’t lose you, remember? I <i>can’t</i>.”</p><p>“Okay,” Tsuna whispered. </p><p>There would be time to panic, Hayato decided, after this battle was finished. After he made certain all Vongola Guardians and Decimo made it through, <i>then</i> he could lose his goddamn <i>mind</i> over what he’d just revealed. But later, <i>later</i>. Because for a moment nothing else mattered save that gentle hand and Tsuna’s gaze on him, heavy and bright and full of fire, refusing to look away. </p><p>Hayato thought his heart might explode. He wasn’t sure he’d mind if it did, so long as the Tenth kept looking at him like <i>that</i>. Unfortunately, only seconds later Chrome’s illusion broke and Mia started screaming.</p><p>“I think that’s my cue,” Tsuna said, lip quirking. </p><p>He took his hand away; Hayato tried not to linger on the loss of it.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Funnily enough, Hayato didn’t manage to do much panicking later. He was far too busy being quietly <i>furious</i> and also terrified and exhausted and cold with misery, as he always was after a battle where Tsuna came out of it looking the worse for wear. It wasn’t that Hayato didn’t trust Tsuna; it wasn’t that he thought he was weak or needed to be protected. It was only that <i>Hayato</i> was weak. It was his own heart that needed to be protected, liable to bruise deeper than Tsuna’s skin, black and blue and slow to heal.<p>When the trio from Naples eventually made a strategic retreat, Tsuna told everyone to let them go. Hayato was too heart-sick to even be surprised when Hibari came near enough to say, “I want to know what their Boxes are.”</p><p>“You noticed too?” Tsuna asked.</p><p>“Of course I did,” Hibari said, dismissive and flippant and violently sharp with interest. “Their flames were far too powerful for them to handle. Something was feeding those herbivores strength that wasn’t their own.”</p><p>“There were side effects,” Tsuna agreed, grimacing only a little as Sasagawa sped up his healing enough for Tsuna to stop bleeding so heavily. “Gokudera-kun said it earlier. They go berserk the more power they consume. I think that’s why Luca called the retreat. Mia started to get sloppier the more I made her reach for power.”</p><p>Ah. So <i>that</i> was why Tsuna had done it, the theory he’d been testing. Draw out the fight, force their opponents to launch attack after attack, and gauge the effects. </p><p>There were more words—important ones. But Hayato let the conversation flow around him, let it lap over him like the tide. It was true: Vongola Decimo was amazing, clever and strong and so very, very brave. A lesser boss might have sent his underlings to test the limits of their enemy, but not Tsuna. </p><p>No, Tsuna would rather wear every wound to save his friends the pain.</p><p><i>God fucking damn it</i>, Hayato thought. <i>We could have done this differently. We could have shared the onslaught. But Tsuna still thinks he’s disposable, doesn’t he? Still thinks everything will be fine so long as we’re okay, even if he’s not. He still doesn’t get it. That he’s just as important to us. That I would break apart if he was gone, if</i>—</p><p>“Gokudera-kun,” came Yamamoto’s voice, closeby and so embarrassingly, devastatingly kind.</p><p>Hayato grunted.</p><p>Yamamoto sidled closer; Hayato let him. It felt as though all he could do in that moment was stand still, hold fast, because if Hayato moved or spoke or thought too much then he might give away his dangerous thoughts, the storm that broke and thundered inside his head, his heart, this raging tempest of emotion that wanted to grab at Tsuna and yell until he understood, until he knew exactly how Hayato felt—and why not? Nothing was fair and the world was no longer some brand new, terrifying thing, but a reality which Hayato couldn’t escape, wouldn’t survive without some form of concession, so why <i>not</i> tell Tsuna.</p><p><i>You matter</i>, Hayato would say. <i>Tsuna, I love you.</i></p><p>Somehow, he still couldn’t do it. Instead he bit his tongue until he tasted blood and listened as Yamamoto said, “They’re gonna be a while. Chrome’ll make sure Tsuna gets home safe after he’s done calling CEDEF, and you know Hibari’s gonna be patrolling the area looking for Luca and them. I was thinking, I’m pretty keyed up, you know? Maybe you wanna come with me to—”</p><p>“No,” Hayato said. “I don’t.”</p><p>Yamamoto blinked, tilting his head quizzically. “No?”</p><p>Hayato just shrugged a little, fumbling for a cigarette. And since there didn’t seem to be much point in being subtle, not after everything that had happened in this battle and leading up to it, he said: “None of them compare to the Tenth. None of them even come close.”</p><p>“Ah,” breathed Yamamoto. “So you do realize it.”</p><p>Snorting, Hayato blew out a long stream of smoke, the nicotine doing little more than taking the edge off his anxiety, the way he was trembling. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “I fucking realized it.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Hayato kept his distance from the boss, shying away every time it looked like Tsuna was reaching for him, wishing to speak to him. Without his Dying Will, Tsuna’s eyes easily went dark with uncertainty and indecision, and Hayato was probably some <i>raging asshole</i> for doing that to the person he cared for most in the world, but if Tsuna pressed him then Hayato was liable to shatter, so fuck it. But he kept his eyes on Tsuna and, when the Tenth was safely tucked away inside the Sawada residence, Hayato laid out on the roof above his room. By then, night had fallen and it was surprisingly cold and Hayato—well, he thought maybe he liked the cold.<p>It gave him an excuse for the way he started shaking. </p><p>An hour passed, maybe. The sun sank all the way down past the horizon and Namimori was lit up in the dark with stars overhead. Hayato shook and shook and refused to think about anything, do anything, kept himself still and small and quiet so that the terror couldn’t find him. When Tsuna’s window scraped open, Hayato didn’t hear it, too caught up in his own thoughts, his fears and desires.</p><p>But he noticed when Tsuna climbed up onto the roof in front of him, looking pained. “You…You <i>are</i> here. I thought maybe… Not that it matters, not that it— Have you been up here this whole time, Gokudera-kun?”</p><p>“Y-y-yes,” Hayato managed, teeth chattering.</p><p>Tsuna’s brow furrowed immediately, corners of his mouth tightening. He reached out a hand for Hayato’s, saying: “Jeez, you— Look, it’s been a stressful day and you haven’t been sleeping and—and you look like you’re about to pass out, so you may as well come inside.”</p><p>“I’m f-f-f-fine, Tenth!”</p><p>“No, you’re <i>not</i>,” Tsuna said, waggling his fingers. “You’re shaking. Why are you shaking? Just— get inside, okay? No one needs to look out their window and see us up here like this, c’mon. Please?”</p><p>Hayato...couldn’t.</p><p>He didn’t know how to take the Tenth’s hand, to join him inside. He felt as though he may crumple with any movement; might come apart into pieces if Tsuna kept on looking at him like this—stern, exasperated, worried on his behalf. Hayato stammered out, “It’s fine. Just c-c-cold.”</p><p>Tsuna scowled. “It is really not cold.”</p><p>“S-s-sure it is!”</p><p>“Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna said, and then: “Hayato. You said any order, right?”</p><p>Silence stretched out between them. Hayato shivered and shook and shattered, beneath the clear starry sky and the steady way Tsuna looked at him: nervous, but determined. Tsuna lifted his hand again, palm up, fingers outstretched and reaching.</p><p>“...Yes,” Hayato managed.</p><p>“Good,” Tsuna said. “Come on, then.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Tsuna didn’t let go of his hand.<p>Hayato didn’t know what to think about it, so he tried not to. Just clung, helpless to do anything else. His hand was clammy and cold, Tsuna’s grip strong and warm. When they got to the middle of Tsuna’s room they both stopped and stood there, hands still clasped. Hayato had trouble breathing.</p><p>“Are you all right?” Tsuna asked eventually, voice subdued.</p><p>Hayato nodded, even though Tsuna wasn’t looking at him; was looking at everything <i>but</i> him, growing more and more uncomfortable. “Y-yeah,” Hayato whispered. Then he cleared his throat and forced himself to let go of his boss’ hand, saying, “Yeah, Tenth. I’m f-fine.”</p><p>He wasn’t, of course. </p><p>But everything Hayato had feared was happening, right here: Tsuna <i>knew</i>. He had to know. Hayato hadn’t been able to keep his love secret, and now Tsuna knew just how pathetic and fucked up he was, and Tsuna—obviously he was uncomfortable. Grossed out. Trying not to be obvious about it, which Hayato figured was kind.</p><p>“S-s-sorry,” he grit out, teeth chattering. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around himself, as if it might be any defense against cruel reality.</p><p>Tsuna said, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”</p><p>“Bullshit. Th-that’s bullshit.”</p><p>Nothing about this was fair. But it had never been <i>fair</i>, had it? It was the same refrain, over and over again. And Hayato couldn’t pretend anymore—it was too late. So he said: “I love you. And I—I k-keep fucking u-up. Getting m-mad. Because you—you—”</p><p>Tsuna turned to face him, eyes so wide.</p><p>Hayato hiccuped a breath, laughing though he wasn’t amused. He just hurt, so fucking badly. “I’m s-sorry,” he said again. “I can’t help it. I c-can’t stop. And you just—you k-keep throwing yourself into d-danger like it doesn’t <i>matter</i>, but it does! It k-kills me, Tenth. It—”</p><p>“Stop,” Tsuna breathed.</p><p>But Hayato didn’t know how. It all kept tumbling out of him, all these emotions, each fragment of his broken heart like he had to cough it up, spit it out, as if that might make him feel better. But it wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Nothing could ever save him from how much he loved Tsuna.</p><p>So he said: “You s-scare me. I can’t lose you, Tenth, I c-can’t—”</p><p>Tsuna made a noise then, some flustered, horrified thing. Hayato was shaking and scared and no doubt scaring <i>him</i>, but fuck—<i>fuck</i>—he didn’t know how to stop.</p><p>“Please,” he rasped. “P-please. Don’t do this again.”</p><p>“Shit,” said Tsuna. And then he took a stumbling step toward Hayato, which made Hayato flinch. He wasn’t sure why, except that everything was terrifying and too much and he was all one raw nerve, completely exposed.</p><p>Tsuna cursed again, but faintly, before taking another nervous step closer, mumbling, “You’re still shaking. That...is it shock? You need to calm down, I don’t—I don’t know what to do…”</p><p>“I’ll go,” Hayato said. “It’s f-fine. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll g-go.”</p><p>“You’ll go on the roof,” Tsuna frowned, still edging closer. “And stay there, won’t you? Protecting me.”</p><p>Hayato didn’t have the strength to lie to him, so he said nothing. He closed his eyes, crossed his arms tighter over his chest, and tried to stop shaking. Exhausted, he was <i>exhausted</i>. But it was easy enough to admit: “I’ll a-always protect y-you.”</p><p>Tsuna made another noise, sharp and thick in his throat, and then—</p><p>Hayato’s eyes flew wide.</p><p>Because those were Tsuna’s hands on Hayato’s elbows, tripping up his arms to rest lightly against his shoulders before continuing even higher, touching fingertips to Hayato’s cheek and jaw, little fiery pinpoints of heat against his skin. Hayato shuddered hard, all his breath escaping, his boss <i>so close</i>—</p><p>“I never know what to do with you,” Tsuna whispered.</p><p>And then they were kissing, Tsuna up on tiptoe, his fingers tangled in Hayato’s hair to pull him down far enough to reach. Lips pressed to lips, hot breath, trembling mouths. Hayato…</p><p>Stood there, shocked.</p><p>Tsuna went to pull back, entire face brilliantly red with embarrassment. But Hayato made his own rough, broken sound, desperation moving within him. His lips were tingling; his heart was in freefall. He—he <i>wanted</i>, more than anything, for Tsuna to do that again.</p><p>Reaching up, he grasped at Tsuna’s wrists, keeping him in place. “Please,” he gasped. “Tenth, <i>please</i>.”</p><p>“I…” Tsuna was only inches away from Hayato, so devastatingly close that they breathed the same air. “I don’t…”</p><p>“T-Tsuna…”</p><p>Tsuna’s expression changed, eyes going dark, brow furrowed, hungry in a way that made Hayato shiver, open up to him, swaying within his grasp. “Fuck,” Tsuna grit out. His fingers curled tighter in Hayato’s hair. He leaned in. “Say that again.”</p><p>Hayato’s heart was beating so frantically it was a wonder no one knocked on the door, asking what all the racket was. He licked his lips, let the look in Tsuna’s eyes lick flame through his body. “Tsuna,” he said, though it came out as a whimper. “Tsuna...Tsuna, please.”</p><p>“<i>Fuck</i>.” </p><p>Tsuna kissed him again.</p><p>Hayato clung to him, kissing back.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>Somehow, they made it to the bed. Hayato wasn’t sure how, exactly. His entire mind was emptied of everything but the feel of Tsuna’s mouth on his, the hesitant trace of Tsuna’s tongue against his upper lip. He was breathing in great, shuddering inhales; felt like he was a firework, sparking and spitting and shattering into light with every clutch of Tsuna’s hand, every brush of his body against Hayato’s own.<p>It was everything Hayato had never expected to have. </p><p>“I didn’t like those girls,” he rambled, twisting so that Tsuna was trapped within his arms, so that Tsuna was draped over him, pressing down. “I didn’t—I don’t care about them. Never did. I just— I just needed—”</p><p>“What? What’re you—?”</p><p>“You,” Hayato admitted, rubbing his face into Tsuna’s neck, face heating up with his shame, his need. “You, I needed <i>you</i>. But I couldn’t have you. I couldn’t, so I—I—”</p><p>Tsuna’s hands on him, smoothing down his back. “Shh. Hush, Hayato. It’s okay. It’s—”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hayato whispered.</p><p>“Jesus,” Tsuna muttered, pressing Hayato down closer. “You…Look, don’t apologize, okay? I mean. I’m the one who should apologize, I didn’t—I didn’t know. I didn’t realize, I—”</p><p>What a mess.</p><p>It was all a mess, a tangled heap of misery and want and helpless hope. Hayato didn’t understand the words coming out of his own mouth, nor Tsuna’s. Couldn’t figure out how to comprehend exactly what was happening, let alone why. But Tsuna was here, beneath him. Tsuna was holding him, letting Hayato touch him. Tsuna was saying, “What do you need? Hayato, what do you need?”</p><p>“Let me…”</p><p>“Go ahead,” Tsuna huffed, his hands relaxing their grip on him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I uh. I want to give you whatever it is that’ll make you feel better. Can I do that? Will you let me?”</p><p>Hayato whimpered. “T-Tenth. You…”</p><p>“No,” Tsuna hushed. “I liked it more when you said my name.”</p><p>Hayato jerked in Tsuna’s embrace, coming undone. He rolled them over so that Tsuna was looking up at him in surprise, hands fisted in Hayato’s shirt, Hayato’s knee planted between Tsuna’s legs. “Yes,” Hayato grit out, and fuck but he sounded wrecked. He couldn’t bring himself to care. “T-Tsuna,” he tried, inexplicably shy, but when Tsuna just groaned a little, body arching, Hayato kept saying it, kept saying Tsuna’s name out loud; said it against Tsuna’s skin, his mouth, his hair, again and again while Hayato ran shaking hands over him, careful of his lingering wounds. </p><p>“You’re okay,” he breathed, pushing Tsuna’s shirt up enough that Hayato could press trembling kisses above the bandages wrapping Tsuna’s ribs tight. “You’re <i>okay</i>.”</p><p>“I am,” Tsuna whispered. “It’s okay, Hayato. I’m okay. I’m—I’m right here.”</p><p>Hayato...wanted.</p><p>Anything. Everything.</p><p>And it was possible that Hayato could finally have a taste of it, so he dared to ask, “C-can I…?” only he couldn’t bring himself to elaborate. Thankfully, he didn’t need to. Hayato watched Tsuna closely, saw the way his face was flushed ruddy, sweating slightly, how he stared up at the ceiling as if overwhelmed but determined, swallowing hard. Felt how his body responded, erection pressing up against Hayato through his jeans. Hayato felt dizzy, horny and so <i>fucking</i> desperate.</p><p>“Yeah,” Tsuna murmured. Then, stronger: “Yes. W-whatever you need. Go ahead.”</p><p>What Hayato needed was to get his mouth back on Tsuna, so he did. He sucked wet kisses down his neck, over his heaving chest. Down his flat stomach and along his happy trail. It was nothing at all like having sex with all those women, but also exactly the same: two bodies learning each other, trying to feel good, to <i>connect</i>. Tsuna kept making noises, though he attempted to stay quiet; Hayato didn’t want him to, so he unbuttoned and unzipped Tsuna’s jeans, tugged them and his boxers down his thighs, and—</p><p>Came face to face with Tsuna’s erection.</p><p>And yeah, fuck yeah, Hayato was into this. He hadn’t been entirely certain despite all of his experimentation, but now he was close enough to smell the slightly salty musk of Tsuna’s dick, close enough to see the hair curling around the base. He thumbed at Tsuna’s balls, marveling at the soft skin, the way it made Tsuna twitch. He licked at Tsuna’s thigh, enjoying the way it matted the pale brown hair there. Hayato was so hard it <i>hurt</i>, and all he wanted to do was put Tsuna’s dick in his mouth.</p><p>So he did.</p><p>He moaned immediately at having his mouth full, but Tsuna moaned louder, sounding like he was about to choke on his own pleasure. Hayato liked it, <i>loved it</i>, and for a moment he just stayed like that, hunched there over Tsuna’s thighs, his hands shaking on Tsuna’s hips, half of Tsuna’s erection resting against Hayato’s tongue. Salty, warm, hard—delicious, he thought, dick pulsing in his jeans.</p><p>“Holy— Holy <i>shit</i>,” Tsuna gasped. </p><p>There was something that one of the women he’d slept with let him do to her, and though Hayato hadn’t known until this moment how much he wanted—<i>needed</i>—to do it himself, he pulled back enough to beg Tsuna: “Fuck my mouth.”</p><p>“<i>What</i>.”</p><p>“Please,” Hayato groaned, rubbing his palms against Tsuna’s hips. Then, like she’d done to him, Hayato wrapped one hand around the base of Tsuna’s dick so that he couldn’t choke him. “Use my mouth. You said—anything. You said anything, Tenth. <i>Tsuna</i>. So please, <i>please</i>—”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Tsuna panted, up on his elbows to stare down at Hayato, bewildered. </p><p>Hayato said, “You’ve never done this before.”</p><p>“N-no,” Tsuna admitted, and it was no surprise. Hayato knew Tsuna was a virgin. <i>Everyone</i> knew Tsuna was a virgin. But he wouldn’t be after this, and Hayato wanted to make it good for him, yes, but more than that, Hayato just <i>needed</i>. He needed to feel Tsuna strong beneath him, to hold steady and just take it. He wanted Tsuna to come in his mouth.</p><p>“It’s easy,” Hayato rasped, licking at the head of Tsuna’s dick. “Just— do what feels right.”</p><p>“...O-okay.”</p><p>“Okay.” Hayato breathed the word against Tsuna, so hot and hard and pulsing in Hayato’s grip. And then he was blood-hot inside of Hayato’s mouth again, a heavy, solid intrusion. It felt so fucking <i>good</i>. Hayato couldn’t help the little noises he made, feeling decadent and outrageous. He squirmed a little, wanting to be touched, wanting to be fucked, but—</p><p>Tsuna twitched his hips in, pressing deeper.</p><p>Hayato’s brain went quiet, flaring like a lit match. He breathed through his nose, felt the way his whole body went soft, went pliant. He held still as Tsuna flexed his hips, bucking up awkwardly again and again until he started moaning, cursing beneath his breath. Tsuna’s hands shoved into Hayato’s hair to the roots, a burning hold that just made him shiver, go more pliant, let Tsuna get deeper and deeper, sliding against Hayato’s tongue.</p><p>“Oh, god,” Tsuna groaned, pushing him down and thrusting up. “You feel—you <i>feel</i>—”</p><p>It was almost strange, the way Hayato felt. Like he was floating, like his body had disintegrated and turned to light, to pure sensation. He felt amazing, was what he felt. Utterly incandescent. And when Tsuna, virgin that he was, gave a loud, choked off cry and stuttered his hips up, fucking into Hayato’s mouth deep enough to nearly choke him as he came, Hayato whimpered and moaned and took it, swallowing instinctively, dreamily.</p><p>“—amazing,” Tsuna panted out, voice strained. “Holy shit. Oh, fuck. That was—”</p><p>Hayato stayed where he was, eyes shut, trembling slightly. He liked it. Liked having Tsuna’s softening dick in his mouth, liked the thick, bitter aftertaste, liked Tsuna’s hands holding him there and how his jaw was aching with use. His scalp still tingled, Tsuna’s grip not yet gentle.</p><p>“The hell did I do to deserve you?” Tsuna asked.</p><p>The question, and the almost helpless way Tsuna asked it, made Hayato’s lashes flutter open. He peeked up at where Tsuna was curled forward to stare at him, face red, mouth slack, eyes dark and wide. It was a gorgeous look on him and Hayato whimpered a little in pure reaction, suddenly aware of the tears at the corner of his eyes. Tsuna murmured a nonsense sound and carefully pulled Hayato off his soft dick, hissing when Hayato licked at him.</p><p>“C’mere,” Tsuna ordered, so Hayato forced his quivering limbs to carry him up Tsuna’s body. He collapsed there against him, face tucked into Tsuna’s neck, panting for breath, as Tsuna’s hands carefully touched him. “Do you...Uh. I mean. Can I…?”</p><p>Slowly, Hayato’s brain came back online. It almost hurt, the way all his blood rushed into his face, burning him. “I uh…” He pressed closer to Tsuna’s neck, breathing him in, so glad that his boss couldn’t look at him in that moment. “You don’t uhm. Need to do anything, boss.”</p><p>“...but. But what if I--”</p><p>“No need,” Hayato forced out, concentrating on all the places their bodies were touching, and not how damp and tacky his boxers currently were.</p><p>Tsuna didn’t get it. “I—I’m not just going to leave you—”</p><p>“<i>Boss</i>,” Hayato whined, and then fumbled for Tsuna’s hand which he brought down to his crotch before he could get so twisted up with embarrassment that he froze. He pressed Tsuna’s hand against where Hayato had creamed his pants, entirely untouched, and was shocked by how much it affected him—something about Tsuna touching him there even after he’d come, maybe especially because of that. It was—it was <i>something</i>, all right.</p><p>“O-oh,” Tsuna said. “That...Wow. Okay.”</p><p>Hayato let him go, but held still. Held still and waited to see what Tsuna would do. If he’d push him away, if he’d linger, if he’d kiss him again. He didn’t know what was happening—how long had Hayato spent convinced that what had just happened could <i>never</i> happen?—but he hoped it wouldn’t stop, whatever this was.</p><p>Tsuna’s fingers shifted, curious.</p><p>Hayato’s brain lit up again, immediately. “Tsuna,” he breathed, and when his boss made a curious, intent sound and shifted, Hayato rolled over onto his back easily. Laid right there where Tsuna put him. </p><p>Tsuna told him: “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, you know? You having sex with all those girls. I tried not to. Didn’t understand <i>why</i>. But I couldn’t stop imagining it. You. How you might look when you came. What noises you’d make. Yeah,” Tsuna murmured, getting Hayato’s belts undone, his jeans unzipped, “like that. You sound so good, Hayato.”</p><p>Whining, Hayato lifted his hips so that Tsuna could look at him. See him soft and sticking to his own thigh, jizz all over. It felt so damned vulnerable, and Hayato’s heart was beating fast and violent enough to make him feel nearly sick with it, but also—he didn’t want it to to stop.</p><p>“Please,” he whispered, rubbing his thighs together, squirming beneath Tsuna.</p><p>His boss wasn’t touching him anymore, but he asked Hayato, “Please, what?” and when Hayato begged him to touch him, to please, please touch him, Tsuna put his hands back on him and did, trailing his fingers through Hatato’s come, touching his overly-sensitive cock, squeezing gently at his balls. </p><p>“Can I…?”</p><p>Hayato’s breath hitched on something like a sob, knees jerking outward to open himself. Tsuna kept murmuring to him under his breath, things like <i>Perfect</i> and <i>So good</i> and <i>Just like that, Hayato</i> and it was making him melt into the mattress, melt into sensation, into surrender. He tipped his head back and breathed raggedly as Tsuna’s curious fingers hesitantly got Hayato hard again, which almost hurt, but at the same time it felt so, so good—</p><p>“Can you come again? I—I want you to. Will you? For me?” Tsuna asked him, planting his free arm by Hayato’s head, looming over him while he tried to learn the rhythm. Hayato nodded, still gasping. </p><p>He asked, “K-kiss me? Tsuna, please, kiss me—”</p><p>Groaning, Tsuna said, “Yes, <i>yes</i>,” and leaned over him and kissed him, tongue flicking in, much less hesitant than before. Hayato opened to him, took and took the pleasure that Tsuna gave him, until he was whining and whimpering with Tsuna’s tongue fucking into his mouth, his grip tight and demanding on Hayato’s dick and oh, <i>oh</i>.</p><p>He came, sharp and vibrant, the world roaring in his ears as it all fell away.</p><p>In the wake of it, he was helpless to do anything but keen and cling to Tsuna, hold onto the person he loved more than anything, who held him back and kissed his jaw, his neck, murmuring, “So good, you’re so <i>good</i>, Hayato. That was perfect, I loved it, I love—”</p><p>It was too much.</p><p>Hayato sighed, sunk beneath the lingering waves of pleasure, and knew nothing at all for a time.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>When he came to it was the middle of the night, the lights off. Hayato was in Tsuna’s room, in his bed, wearing just a shirt beneath the blanket. Weird, he thought, shifting to feel the slide of cool sheets against his naked ass. Weirder, of course, once Hayato realized that Tsuna was asleep next to him.<p>Oh. Oh <i>fuck</i>.</p><p>Hayato tensed, eyes going wide. He—</p><p>They <i>couldn’t</i> have.</p><p>Surely everything that had happened before had been...a dream? Some crazed figment of Hayato’s desperate, lonely imagination. There was no real way it could possibly be true. People didn’t get that lucky. <i>Hayato</i> didn’t get that lucky. Not a chance in hell, dreams were just—dreams, impossible and unattainable and—</p><p>His dick was sticking to Tsuna’s god damned sheets.</p><p>Hayato was smart, despite all of the evidence pointing to the contrary: his years long obliviousness toward how he felt about Tsuna, primarily. But he knew how he felt—how much he loved the Tenth—and he knew how dangerous that was. He knew that after the end of the last battle Hayato had been in something like shock, muffled and distant, not quite functioning on all cylinders. But now he wasn’t shocked senseless, turned <i>stupid</i> with fear and longing. He was just—</p><p>Panicked.</p><p>Terrified.</p><p>Desperately praying that he hadn’t just fucked everything up beyond repair between him and Tsuna if—if that had all really happened. If Hayato had actually said those things, if Tsuna had actually done those things. What did they mean? How did this work? Hayato knew better than to let hope get the best of him, but oh, <i>oh</i>, he wanted—</p><p>He wanted <i>this</i>.</p><p>Tsuna asleep next to him, Hayato’s arm draped loosely over his hips, listening to him breathe. He wanted to hold onto the memory of Tsuna’s touch, his kisses, the taste of his orgasm thick in Hayato’s mouth. He wanted and wanted and <i>wanted</i> but he shouldn’t—couldn’t—because no matter what had transpired, there was just no way that Tsuna could love him back, not how Hayato needed.</p><p>His breath caught, chest squeezing mercilessly. </p><p>He hadn’t thought that before, had he? That he <i>needed</i> Tsuna to love him. No, he hadn’t. He had been certain that it wouldn’t matter, not in the face of how much Tsuna meant to him as his boss. Vongola Decimo was someone Hayato would follow blindly, and that would never change. But Tsuna—<i>Tsuna</i>—</p><p>Hayato didn’t know how to act as if he didn’t love him, it seemed.</p><p>It’d been leaking through everything for so long now, to the point where he couldn’t stand to hide it. Now Tsuna knew. Hayato…</p><p>Didn’t know what to do.</p><p>“Tenth,” he whispered into the darkness, “I’m...so sorry.”</p><p>To his surprise, Tsuna shifted beneath him, making soft, sleepy noises. “Gokudera-kun?” he asked, voice thick, and it was nothing at all like he’d sounded earlier, saying <i>Hayato</i>. </p><p>Hayato tried not to panic worse, but that was really entirely and absolutely impossible. Frantic, he scrabbled his way off the bed, arm gone chillingly cold where he tore it from the warmth of Tsuna’s skin. He fell to the floor with a jarring thump, blind in the dark room, desperate—</p><p>“Gokudera-kun?!”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Oh god. Oh fuck. I’m so sorry, Tenth. I didn’t mean—you must be—fuck!”</p><p>“Goku—” there was the sound of blankets rustling; Tsuna sitting up in bed, leaning over the edge perhaps, because when he spoke next his voice was nearer to where Hayato sat, bare assed on the floor and utterly uncertain what to do with himself. “Hayato, just...calm down, okay?”</p><p>“You...I don’t…”</p><p>“God, I’m so— Hayato, I’m <i>tired</i>. I’m sore. It’s the middle of the night! Just… Come back to bed. Stop panicking, why are you panicking? I really thought that I’d be the one panicking, okay?!”</p><p>“You’re straight,” Hayato blurted.</p><p>“...Uh,” said Tsuna.</p><p>“I’m in love with you,” Hayato continued, because he was an idiot. “I’ve been—completely, hopelessly in love with you for ages, Tenth. But you’re...straight. So I can’t—I don’t get to have this. I don’t know how—”</p><p>“I don’t uh,” Tsuna interrupted. “I don’t...know what I am, okay? But I just…”</p><p>The sound of a sigh, the bed springs squeaking.</p><p>Hayato’s eyes were so wide they ached, but he couldn’t see anything. Tsuna moved again, and then there was a hand bouncing awkwardly against Hayato’s knee before gripping tightly. Bare palm against bare skin, nails scratching lightly through the curl of his leg hair. Hayato shivered.</p><p>“Get up here,” Tsuna asked, voice quiet, <i>exhausted</i>.</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“Hayato,” Tsuna said, more sternly. “Come <i>here</i>.”</p><p>There wasn’t anything Hayato could do but obey. When he was settled back into the bed, shoved onto his side and beneath the covers, Tsuna curled up to mirror him, he tried to match his breathing to Tsuna’s. A steady in and out that began to calm his heart, began to let the tension seizing his muscles loosen. Their knees were touching. </p><p>Tsuna said, “I can’t...I can’t promise I’m not going to freak out, okay? This is. Not something I expected. This is a lot. I uh, I have some catching up to do. I’m probably going to panic and—and be an idiot. Make a fool of myself for sure. But…”</p><p>Into that hesitant, hopeful silence, Hayato murmured nervously: “But what, Tenth?”</p><p>In careful inches, Tsuna scooted closer, close enough that the breath he exhaled ticked Gokudera’s skin. Tsuna’s hands found his, slowly twining their fingers together, clammy skin and nervous twitches. He said, “But I...I know I’m going to regret it if I run from this. From <i>you</i>. So...don’t let me.”</p><p>Hayato breathed.</p><p>It was all he could handle in that moment, so he just laid there and breathed, trying to turn that over in his head. Trying to understand the shape of it, the weight. Trying to comprehend what it might mean. He licked his lips and eventually thought to ask: “Do you like me?”</p><p>“...Yes.” Tsuna’s voice was so soft, hushed and intimate. “I uh, I like you a lot, I think.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hayato said back, just as soft, just as hushed. “That...that’s good. I uhm. Like you a lot, too.”</p><p>Silence again, less awkward, less fraught—but in it, Hayato thought he could hear unspoken words, Tsuna carefully not saying <i>You said you love me</i>. But Tsuna had said <i>don’t let me</i>, and Hayato thought, maybe, that going a little slower than he wanted might help with that, might keep Tsuna from running too far and too fast and—</p><p>Hayato said, “I love you.”</p><p>—he never had been very good at curbing his enthusiasm around the Tenth.</p><p>Tsuna’s breath caught. </p><p>He leaned in. Hayato felt the motion, though he couldn’t see it. But he shifted in turn and their mouths met again. Soft pressure, gentle movement. A kiss that wasn’t about desperation or sex. A kiss that was just—<i>theirs</i>. Something like a promise, perhaps. Hope.</p><p>“Sleep,” Tsuna murmured. His lips brushed over Hayato’s bottom lip again, then clumsily down to his chin, then along his jaw. “We’ll wake up and...and deal with everything. All of it. And when I start to freak out, do me a favor?”</p><p>“Anything,” Hayato hummed, head tilting back into the pillow, going boneless and soft and warm with the Tenth’s mouth on his neck, the Tenth’s arms slowly wrapping around him, pulling him in close. “Anything,” he said. “Anything you want.”</p><p>Tsuna’s breath hitched again. “That,” he said. “You— Tell me again that you love me. Tell me how much. I—I like hearing it. I love it. I can’t walk away when you say that, Hayato.”</p><p>Hayato blinked, surprised. And then he laughed. </p><p>Because that was the opposite of what he’d thought he would need to do in order to survive this. He thought he had to hide it all, to pack it away, pretend like Tsuna couldn’t break him open with just a look, a casual touch. He thought he’d have to bite his tongue until it was bloody so as not to shout out how much he adored him.</p><p>And here was Tsuna, telling him not to hide.</p><p>“Okay,” Hayato promised, settling in. “Okay, yeah. Sure, Tenth. I can <i>definitely</i> do that.”<br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3<br/>as always, thank you so v much for reading (:<br/>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
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